


Spring Break Fever

by chrono96



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: AND peter and mj cant stand each other, AU where peter isn't spiderman, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hate to Love, Slow Burn, Spideychelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 126,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14050938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrono96/pseuds/chrono96
Summary: Right before their first spring break at NYU, MJ comes over to Ned and Peter's apartment for a favor: she needs someone to spend a week with her and her family in Hawaii, and come as her date to her aunt's wedding so her family will finally stop tormenting her about being single. There's one catch, though: Peter and MJ can't stand each other, and entangling them in a fake relationship will definitely ensure chaos...and maybe something else.





	1. Proposals

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, I'm excited to finally start a new story! I've been wanting to since I ended Double Life, but I only just now had the time. So here you go!
> 
> A few notes: just for writing purposes, Peter isn't Spider-Man. Also, this is set in the future, when they're college students! This is your typical hate-to-love, slow burn, fake dating fanfic, so I hope you enjoy :) I will hopefully be updating weekly, although I'm not sure what day yet!

“Since when did we run out of paper plates?” Peter yells across the apartment, scrounging around all of their kitchen cabinets just to find _one paper plate_ for the Hot Pocket he’s been looking forward to eating all day.

“Since, like, two days ago,” Ned replies from the living room, adjusting his headset while he actually _tilts_ his body every time his character moves on the video game in front of him.

This is Peter and Ned’s _second_ semester at NYU, and also their _second_ semester in their new apartment. He was planning on staying at home with May for a few more years if he got accepted, but turns out he _and_ Ned both got offered a full ride scholarship for their academic achievements, which included room and board. After checking out the tiny dorms, they both (and May) decided that the best option would be to rent an apartment on the outskirts of campus. Bigger, cheaper, and they both get bedrooms, and a conjoined kitchen/living room space instead of just one tiny room to share. It's still pretty small, but it’s bigger and nicer than a dorm room.

It’s all been great, too, besides the _slightly_ increased bickering between he and Ned. But it’s rare, and it’s only on bad days, so it’s bearable.

“God,” Peter groans, dramatically leaning his forehead against the cabinet in sadness. “And we’re out of paper towels too. We should’ve just gotten the real plate set like May insisted.”

“Dude, just put whatever you’re cooking in the microwave _without_ a plate or paper towel. That’s what I’ve been doing,” Ned tells him, somehow able to hold a complete conversation _and_ play a loud, action-packed video game simultaneously.

“Come on, dude, that’s why this microwave is freaking disgusting now,” Peter replies, looking around at all of the crusty, dried food that’s been cooked into the sides and top of it.

He sighs and looks between the horrendous microwave and the Hot Pocket he’s been daydreaming about during _two_ of his midterms today. He eventually decides that his growling stomach overpowers the level 6/10 disgusting factor of the microwave, and plops it in without a plate, trying not to think about it too long.

When it’s done he sits down at the table, a steaming Hot Pocket and glass of soda in front of him, and a fork in hand. He takes his first relaxed breath of his hectic day, trying to enjoy the peaceful moment.

“Finally,” he sighs, cutting open the front of the pizza-sandwich, watching the melted cheese pull apart, bringing a perfectly-halved pepperoni along with it. He stares at it on the end of his fork, before closing his eyes, and bringing it to his mouth.

But it never gets there.

The door swings open loudly right as it touches his lips, and the sudden movement makes Peter drop the fork into his lap before he can even _taste_ it.

“Walking to this stupid apartment in the rain freaking sucks,” MJ walks (more like trudges messily) inside the apartment, hooking her soaking wet bag onto the chair opposite of Peter, and pulling her muddy boots off and setting them by the door.

Oh, and that’s _another_ person that made it into NYU from Midtown: Michelle Jones. Although the three of them weren’t extremely close in highschool and were only casual acquaintances, they were still the only other people they knew at the gigantic, scary university, so they instinctually all flocked together eventually during their first semester.

And no, he doesn’t _hate_ MJ per se, but strongly dislike is still very fitting. He tried _so hard_ at first to get along with her, but she’s rude, snarky, obnoxious, and she bursts into their apartment at the absolute _worst_ times she possibly could. And Peter hates that. She also teases him relentlessly about _everything,_ when all he wants is some peace and quiet after a long day of midterm exams. It’s almost like she _wants_ him to hate her sometimes.

“Then go to your _own_ dorm next time,” Peter fires back in annoyance, trying to pull the cheese from his pants, but burning his fingers in the process. “I knew I should have locked that stupid door when I got home.”

“Ooh, someone’s feeling feisty today,” she leans her hip against the side of the table, reaches down, grabs his Hot Pocket, and takes a bite right off. “Damn, that’s good. Pepperoni?”

“Oh my God, _get out,”_ he replies, snatching it from her hands. “Why are you even here?”

“I’m taking a nap on you guys’ couch,” she replies nonchalantly, taking her jacket off before walking into the living room. “Listening to my stupid teacher mansplain stupid microeconomics for half an hour _before_ an exam is exhausting.”

“Oh hey, MJ,” Ned tells her, momentarily putting his controller down to do their “special handshake.” Peter finds it extremely annoying; especially since Ned _never_ puts his controller down when Peter needs him to.

“Sup, Ned?” MJ tells him, before plopping down on the couch with a sigh, and wrapping her arms around the throw pillow there. “So what are we playing here?”

“Seriously, MJ, can you not take a nap at _your_ dorm? On _your_ couch?” Peter stands in the doorway, crossing his arms.

“No.You know why? Because my roommate and her idiotic boyfriend are _literally_ having sex in there every second of every day. I’m not even sure they go to class at this point. So no, actually, I _can’t_ just take a nap in my room. In fact, I can hardly even _sleep_ in there.” she looks at him, as annoyed as ever, before adding: “Also, you’re an idiot. Goodnight.”

Then she proceeds to lay her head down on the pillow, close her eyes, and fall asleep.

Peter feels like yelling back at her, telling her how bad of a day he’s had and how _she_ just made it worse. But he grits his teeth, sighs, and then turns back around to finish his Hot Pocket instead.

He always loses those arguments anyway, and their bickering has become extremely annoying to have to deal with _every day_ . So he decides to just bite the bullet, be the bigger person, and _try_ to salvage the rest of this god-awful day and make something good of it.

After finishing his cold, hard Hot Pocket, he goes into his room to study for his last midterm tomorrow. After an hour or so his eyes get tired, so he shuts the lid of his laptop and listens to the sound of the drizzling rain hit against his window. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep.

“Peter! Wake up and get your tiny ass in here! I have takeout!” MJ yells, pounding her fists on his door to wake him.

He groans loudly in anger, pulling the pillow over his head. But then he smells the Chinese food wafting under his bedroom door, and feels his stomach grumbling hungrily, so he groans one last time, before finally getting out of his bed and going to the kitchen.

He squints at the sudden light, scratching his head and sighing as he pulls out a chair at the table.

“He’s up!” Ned grins, before grabbing one of the boxes of takeout. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great, until _someone,”_ he sticks his thumb out to point at MJ, “rudely woke me.”

“Sorry about that,” she replies, and even though it doesn’t sound sincere, he still narrows his eyes at her in confusion from her lack of a snarky reply. “I got you guys’ favorite takeout and even picked up some paper plates for you after my nap. Since I’m so kind and thoughtful, you know.”

“You did?” He makes a suspicious face, looking over at the stack of packaged styrofoam plates sitting on the counter. “Why?”

“Because I was thinking about it, and...I _do_ crash here a lot. And I wanted to do something nice for my daily hosts.” She replies, and he can tell she’s trying to fight the urge to bicker with him. But he doesn’t know _why_ she’s fighting that urge, because she _never_ fights that urge.

“Yeah, right,” Peter laughs, shaking his head at her in disbelief. “What’s the _real_ reason you’re being so nice? It’s weird.”

“Fine,” she drops the act, and the fake look of sadness on her face. “I have a proposal for one of you—whichever one says yes; I don’t have a preference.”

“Huh?” Is all Ned asks, confused.

“And what is that proposal exactly?” Peter laughs, already preparing himself to instantly turn down any favor she’s about to ask of him right now.

“So spring break is next week, right?” she says, distractedly fumbling with the takeout box in her hand. Peter nods, his eyes still narrowed in suspicion. “Well, my aunt is getting married next Friday. In Hawaii. It’s a big thing, all the family’s going, whatever.”

“And…?” Peter follows up, still unsure of exactly what she’s asking.

“And, I need a date,” she shrugs, looking at them. Ned chokes on his rice a little, before asking “really?” with a mouthful of food.

“What? Why?” Peter asks, confused. Of all the things he thought she might say, this definitely didn’t even cross his mind.

“I’m nineteen, I've never dated anyone, my family won’t leave me alone about it, blah blah blah, who cares. My mom even dramatically cried about it last time I saw her, even though, you know, it’s _my_ choice, but whatever. Seriously, it's ridiculous. Pretty sure they think I’m going to die alone.”

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Peter laughs a little, unable to help himself from teasing her about it.

“You’re one to talk, Parker,” she throws an egg roll at his head, before taking a bite out of another. “If it wasn’t for how awesome May is, you’d be in the same ridicule-from-family boat as me, virgin.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna win me over,” he sits back in his seat, shaking his head. “Besides, you don’t even _know_ if I’m a v-”

“He is,” Ned confirms her suspicions, taking another bite.

“Ha!” MJ laughs, and Peter sighs, looking at Ned.

“Dude!” He tells him, but Ned just shrugs in reply.

“So, back to the proposal,” she leans forward, looking between them. “Who’s in?”

“Are you kidding? No way,” Peter laughs, shaking his head as he gets up to grab a drink from the fridge.

“Why not?” MJ asks, crossing her arms.

“Hmm, let’s see…” Peter taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think deeply. “We. Aren’t. Dating.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I can’t stand you either,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It’s a _fake_ relationship. We say we’re dating, get through the miserable trip without being yelled at, and then we’re home and everything’s normal again. It’ll be great. Easy, too.”

“I’d love to do it, but I already have a family vacation planned. Sorry, MJ,” Ned tells her, seeming genuinely sad about it.

“Peter? What about you?” She asks, now seeming desperate but trying not to show it. “Do you have plans?”

“No, but-”

“-Great, then it’s settled!”

“No, no way,” Peter shakes his head, turning his focus back to his food.

“Why?” MJ groans, leaning back in her chair in exasperation.

“Because we can’t stand each other! We can’t be in the same room with one another without fighting, so to pretend like we’re _dating?_ It would be impossible to sell and you know it.” He argues, looking at Ned for backup. But he just continues to eat his food, not getting involved.

“Peter, it’s only _eight days._ I need this. You don’t understand how...freaking evil and _harsh_ my family can be. It sucks, and I’m tired of hearing it. This is the only thing that will _finally_ shut them up. I know we have...differences, but I...sort of need you, as embarrassing as that is to say. Please.” She pleads, her eyebrows furrowing. He actually feels bad now, especially since she _never, ever_ acts like this. Like she needs something, or how she’s actually being somewhat _nice_ to Peter, and he knows this must be really bad if her family is actually hurting her feelings with it. He didn’t think hurting her feelings was possible, especially since he hasn’t seen this side of her in all of the years he’s known her.

“Why would I do this? You’re...you’re freaking mean to me all the time, and you hate me, so what makes you think I would help you? I don’t get it.” He sighs, trying to force himself to stay strong. But at his core he _does_ try to help everyone, and that look she’s giving him is killing him, and somehow he’s forgetting that she teases him relentlessly. Somewhere in this time he also starts to feel bad about the fact that her family makes _her_ feel bad. And it’s harder to be mean to someone that isn’t being mean to you, which is how their bickering started in the first place.

“Because we're friends and you’d be helping me out _so_ much,” she tells him, still trying to win him over despite the fact that this is the first time she’s ever even said they were friends. “Plus, an eight-day spring break vacation to Maui, Hawaii, _all_ expenses paid. My family is sort of rich.”

 _“That_ rich?” Ned asks, taken aback. MJ nods slowly, smiling.

“Ohhhh yeah,” she replies, then turns towards Peter.

“Don’t you have any other friends you could ask?” Peter groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Does it _look_ like I have other friends to you, Parker?” She shakes her head, looking at him incredulously. “It’ll be easy. We can do our own thing most of the time, but we just have to be there for the wedding, act like a couple, and then you’re done. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” He looks at her, unable to believe he’s even _considering_ this. But he knows it would be _stupid_ to turn an eight day vacation to Hawaii down, especially when he’s been needing a relaxing break from school.

“Yep, and then you’ll be free,” she tells him, looking hopeful. “Plus, half of my family won’t even be there until the day _before_ the wedding, and they’re leaving right after. It’s only my close family that’ll be there all week, and you’ll probably barely see them. And, as a bonus I’m willing to...to do all needed grocery shopping for you and Ned for a whole month.”

“Two months, _and_ food pick up any time we want.” He counters back, and she rolls her eyes.

She looks at him for a moment, weighing her options, and then sticks her hand out, breathing out, “deal.”

He smiles, then reaches over to shake her hand to confirm their agreement. But then, as an afterthought, he pulls his hand back slightly and narrows his eyes at her. She groans.

“What else?” she sighs and drops her hand, knowing he’s about to make a last-second addition to his terms. Probably an annoying one, too.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Peter tilts his head, smiling slightly at his idea. “There’s one more condition left. _You_ have to be nice to me.”

“Oooooh,” Ned laughs, rubbing his hands together evilly. “This is finally getting interesting.”

MJ rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “How long?”

“For as long as I say,” Peter shrugs, crossing his own arms now. “And you can't stop until I tell you that you can.”

“Kinky,” she raises an eyebrow, tilting her head.

Ignoring that, and ignoring the quickening of his heartbeat (it’s not because it’s _her,_ obviously, it’s because it’s _anyone_ making a slightly suggestive comment at him, okay?), he keeps a straight face, asking, “so does that mean you agree?”

“Jesus, Parker,” she breathes out and rubs her temple, thinking on it. “Fine. I hope this makes you realize how serious the situation is.”

“Oh, I do,” he grins triumphantly, now extending his hand out again for her to shake. She reaches hers forward, hesitating a moment, before sighing and grabbing his hand, finally sealing the deal.

“Congrats, Parker,” MJ smiles at him deviously, taking a bite of an eggroll, “You’re officially my fake boyfriend.”

“Lucky me,” he leans back, shaking his head.

“This is, like, a dream come true,” Ned sighs happily, looking between both of them. “Two of my favorite people finally getting along. It’s amazing.”

“It’s not _real_ getting along, Leeds, so don’t get use to it,” MJ tells him, before looking back at Peter. “So, we’re leaving Saturday. Our flight is at six forty-five am, so I expect you to be packed and ready at five thirty.”

“Hmm, that didn’t sound very nice to me,” Peter sighs, tilting his head. She breathes in and closes her eyes, composing herself, before putting on a very fake, very scary smile.

“Pretty please, Peter?” She replies in a high-pitched voice, batting her eyelashes. “With a cherry on top?”

“I think my eggroll is about make another appearance,” Peter shakes his head, laughing.

“You’re going to have to be nice to me too, you know. For an entire week. So you better start preparing, Parker, because you’re going to be pretending you’re _infatuated_ with me.” MJ shrugs, smiling contently. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it, too.”

“Yeah, I bet you can’t _wait_ to pretend you’re in love with me,” Peter retorts, folding his arms over his chest in an as-a-matter-of-fact way.

“Ugh, don’t be so full of yourself; we both know I was referring to the enjoyment of your misery,” she rolls her eyes for the millionth time, shaking her head in disgust. “This whole thing is going to take a miracle to pull off. Are you sure you can’t cancel those plans, Ned?”

“I wish I could, just so I would be able to see what you two faking to date would be like. Or faking to even mildly _like_ each other, for that matter. I’m sad I’m going to miss it.” Ned sighs, shaking his head, “But I expect couple-y pictures and a progress report daily.

“Not gonna happen,” both Peter _and_ MJ say simultaneously, then turn to give each other nasty looks.

“Aw, you’re already finishing each other's sentences!”

* * *

Peter heads to his last midterm for the semester—chemistry—at ten on Friday morning. He’s always loved the subject, so studying didn’t feel like much of a chore which took off a lot of the stress.

After finishing the exam and feeling like he did pretty well, he heads back to the apartment in an amazing mood. All of his midterms went great, it’s finally sunny outside, _and_ he’s about to embark on a _free_ eight day trip to Hawaii. Yeah, it has a few drawbacks to it, but it’s still a _free eight day trip to Hawaii,_ so he can’t justify whining _too_ much about it.

On his way through campus and back to his apartment, he decides to call May and tell her he _won’t_ be coming to stay there next week, and what his plans are.

“Hawaii? With MJ? I thought you two still weren’t getting along,” she told him through the phone, confused.

“I mean...we aren’t. But she really needs help because it’s apparently some huge thing, and-”

“Wait...help with what?” May interrupts, and Peter sighs, hoping to have found a way to somehow get around the real reason why he was going.

“Oh, I didn’t say?” Peter laughs awkwardly, swallowing thickly. “I, uh...well she needs me to, like, pretend we’re dating or whatever. Her family is weird about it, and she needed a date to the wedding. So, basically, _I_ get a free vacation, and _she_ gets out of being tormented by her family about being single. It’s a win-win.”

“Oh,” May replies, followed by a long silence that fills Peter with a specific kind of anxiety that only comes from May’s disappointed-in-you voice. “Well I hope you both have fun. And be very, very careful, okay? Also, I really miss you. We need to plan a lunch date when you get home, sweetie.”

“Yeah, May, of course, I’d love that,” he laughs in relief, thanking god there were no further questions she needed answers to. Mostly because he wasn’t sure he’d even have them. “I’ll check in with you every day, okay?”

“You better,” she laughs, and so does he. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too,” he tells her, hesitating a moment, before hanging up.

* * *

 “So,” Peter tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, using his hands to grab his duffel bag from his closet. “What do I need to bring on this trip?”

“Swimming trunks, nicer clothes for eating out and for the wedding, pajamas, obviously, shorts since it’s hot, and shirts. But try to make most of those shirts sleeveless or else your farmers tan will be horrendous.” She tells him, and he rolls his eyes and ravages through his drawers.

Then he hears the front door of the apartment open.

“Wait, MJ, I think someone’s here,” he whispers, his heart stopping as he quietly starts tip-toeing to his bedroom door to look.

“And you’ll need tons of sunscreen,” MJ herself walks into his room then, and tosses a bottle of coconut-scented SPF 50 at him, hanging her phone up. He grabs it from the air, looking at her like she’s insane as she leans against the doorway. “That pale skin of yours is like skin cancer city just waiting to be brought out by the Hawaiian sun.”

“Jesus, MJ, give me a warning next time. And, by the way, that comment sounded like it was very close to being mean. But I’ll let it pass this time,” he shakes his head and takes in a breath, tucking the bottle into the side of his duffel. “You could have just told me you were about to be in my apartment when I called. To, you know, save me the heart attack.”

“You’re so boring,” she shakes her head, rolling onto his bed with a sigh. “So what’s the progress?”

“I’ve officially packed…” he grabs the bottle of sunscreen, holding it up, “one thing.”

“Christ,” she groans, propping her chin on her hand.

“Hey, you can’t complain. _You’re_ the one who literally invited me _two days_ before leaving,” he shakes his head, getting up to grab clothes from his drawers. “Plus, I had a midterm this morning. Some people _actually_ have things they have to do, you know.”

“Okay, the only reason it was last minute is because my mom was on the phone booking flights and asking _“so are you bringing a date?”_ in _that_ condescending voice, so I knew I was going to get hell the entire trip. So that’s when I said that yeah, I was bringing a date, without even knowing _who_ I was bringing. I just wanted to...prove her wrong or something. Then when I got here yesterday and woke up from my nap, it hit me: I could bring one of you dweebs.”

“So...what if _we_ couldn’t have helped? Like, what would you have done?” He laughs, grabbing a stack of shorts, shirts, and pants and stuffing them down in his duffel.

“Hired some random guy off the street to come with me,” she shrugs simply, “My mom had already bought the second plane ticket. Plus, I was like ninety-nine percent sure _one_ of you could do it, or that I could _convince_ you to, at least.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii,” he shakes his head and laughs, grabbing his swimming shorts. “Wait, if your mom only bought two tickets...then when is she going? And why aren’t we going with her?”

“She bought another for her, but it was for today instead of tomorrow. I told her about how you had a midterm today which, thank god you did, because I would have had to just make up a lie so we wouldn’t have to go with her.” MJ replies, seeming annoyed at the thought of it.

“What? Why?” Peter asks, stopping his movements so he can turn around to look at her.

“She’s awful,” MJ replies, as honest as ever. “You’ll see.”

“I mean, you’ve said she doesn’t approve of you being single, but…you don’t get along? At all?” He asks, confused. This is the first he’s heard of this, but then again, they aren’t close at all, either. They spend a lot of time together, but it’s almost all fighting—ever actually _talking._

“She’s rude, stuck up, and is _very_ disappointed in me, her daughter who didn’t go to an Ivy League school and who doesn’t think the way she looks to a man is the most important thing in the world,” she laughs bitterly with a sigh, shaking her head. “And, just to warn you, she won’t approve of you either. But at least she won’t make comments about how I’m going to die alone, without a man to love me. As if it’s the only thing I need to be remotely happy.”

“Oh,” Peter nods, gulping awkwardly. She doesn’t have a sad voice about it, though—it sounds more like anger to Peter—but the last five minutes is the most he’s learned about her personal life in probably all of the years he’s known her.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t be telling you this if you weren’t about to meet her, so...good luck,” she sighs, picking up his alarm clock and examining it. “Is Leeds here?”

“No, he went to get pizza before you got here,” Peter clears his throat, getting whiplash from the sudden conversation change. “He should be back soon though. I would have made you do it, but I didn’t realize you were coming over since, you know, you weren’t invited.”

“Good, I’m starving,” she ignores the last part of his statement, stands up off his bed, and walks around his room to examine it. Which, of course, makes him anxious. He hates having people in his room, looking at all of his stuff; especially someone like MJ who is undoubtedly doing it to gain more ammunition to tease him for being so “nerdy.”

She walks past his chess board slowly, looks over his computer and desk, and then she stares up at his Star Wars poster. He keeps packing his bag, pretending not to care that she’s looking around.

“Loser,” she utters, disguising it as a cough.

“Hey, you keep forgetting our deal!” Peter crosses his arms, and she laughs as she falls back down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t say anything,” she shrugs, and he rolls his eyes as he stuffs his shoes into the side pocket of his bag.

“So how much porn do you have on that laptop?” She asks nonchalantly, as if they’re just talking about something as mundane as the weather.

“What? I don’t have any of...of that,” he retorts, taken aback.

“Yeah, right,” she laughs, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said.

“I’m serious, MJ, I don’t,” he tells her, sterner now.

“Any of what?” She rolls over on the bed so she can look over at him; something he purposely chooses to ignore as he packs his socks. “Say the word, Parker. What is it that you _don’t_ have on that computer?”

“Not saying it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But why?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Good one, Parker, you should be a lawyer.”

“Why are we even talking about this anyway?” He asks, sighing in exasperation.

“Because if you don’t watch porn, and you’re a single virgin, then how do you, you know, blow off steam?” she asks, making a jerking off motion in the air.

“Oh my _God,_ please shut up,” he groans, his face heating up.

“Good imagination, I assume?” she goes on, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tell me, you ever have a wet dream about Ned? I mean, you guys _do_ live together, and-”

“That’s it, the deal's off,” Peter puts his hands in the air like he’s giving up. “I’m done.”

“Oh my God, Peter, I'm joking, you baby,” she replies, laughing at him. "Well, except for the not-being-able-to-say-the-word-porn-out-loud part, but come on, that's just overly prudish.”

“You're so freaking annoying,” he sighs, shaking his head.

“You're one to talk,” she replies, rolling her eyes again.

Then there's silence. One minute, two minutes, three.

“Do you think we can actually pull this off?” Peter breathes out, turning to look at her. She's just sprawled out on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “Like convincingly?”

“The dating thing?” she asks, sitting up to look at him.

“Yeah,” he nods, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously.

“Listen, Peter,” she tucks her feet beneath her legs, looking at him. “Not to put all of the pressure on you, even though I'm actually kind of doing that on purpose right now, but I'm all in on this. I guess since I've dealt with it for years, I'm super serious about pulling it off. I'm a hell of an actress; especially when the alternative is being mercilessly torn down by evil, bitter family members. So if they don't believe it, it's not going to be because of me. Because once we get off that plane, and until we get back on the week after, I'm head over heels for you.”

“But what if...what if I'm a bad actor? I won't purposely, like, sabotage this for you or anything, no matter how much I can't stand you, but...I've never dated anyone, you know? I mean I've gone on a few dates, yeah, but never anything serious, or for long enough that I've ever felt that way about someone. Not since Liz, at least, and that seems like an eternity ago. I'm just worried I'll screw it all up somehow.” he gulps, trying not to show exactly _how_ nervous he really is.

“You done with your little freak out there, Parker?” she laughs, but not in the usual teasing way. Well, it's teasing, yeah, but more in a playful manner now than an I-hate-you way (like it usually is.) “So, you've watched, like, romance movies, right? Actually, I know you have—I've seen you and Ned's collection. Well just...act like you're a leading character in one of those. Longing looks, smiling annoyingly at everything the other person says, disgusting amounts of PDA. It's simple. Gross, maybe, but simple. As hard and...mortifying as it’ll be, we just have to get through the week convincing everyone we’re in love.”

“But how could I do that if I've never experienced it? Or known what it felt like? I feel like I'll just do everything wrong or something.” Peter sighs, now getting himself more and more worked up over the thought. Especially since MJ seems so to be so sure and confident on her side of it.

“Then they'll just think you're socially awkward or something. I already told mom you’re majoring in computer science, so that's probably what everyone expects already anyway,” she shrugs, not seeming to see the big deal.

“Oh, wow, thanks for that,” Peter groans, putting his face in his hands.

“Okay, okay, fine, I'll work with you,” she laughs a little, adjusting her body to sit cross-legged. “What's something specific you're worried about?”

“Umm, just like…” he starts, scratching his neck. “Okay, what about our story? Like when we realized we liked each other, how it happened, how long ago.”

“Good idea, we should probably come up with a story we both can back up just in case,” she nods, taking a few seconds to come up with something. “Now before I say this, please—for my sanity's sake—remember that this is hypothetical in every way possible. But...here we go: we grew up going to school together, but didn't really know each other well until we started going to NYU, where we hung out since we didn't know anyone else. Let's say that happened around...October last year. And then we started dating in November when you asked me out.”

“Why do I have to be the one to ask you out?” he narrows his eyes at her, annoyed.

“God, Parker, really? To start off, you're ridiculous and a baby. But anyway, you had to be the one to ask me out, because my family knows me. They know I would never ask someone out—mostly because I don't care enough.” she shrugs, and he sighs because he knows it's true.

“Fine,” he slumps his shoulders, abandoning the packing process altogether so he can focus on getting his story straight and his act together. He puts his hands on the floor behind him, leaning back to look at her on the bed.

“So have you ever kissed anyone before, or...?” MJ asks, tilting her head, trying to get a read on him.

“Yeah, of course,” he looks at her, narrowing his eyes in aggravation at her once again. “Why?”

“You just look like you haven't, is all,” she shrugs, seeming impressed.

“I _look_ like I haven't? In what way?” he sits up then, crossing his arms defensively.

“Uh, just the whole…” she gestures vaguely at him, “thing you have going on here.”

“Okay, well, I'll have you know that I kissed Liz at the Homecoming dance back in tenth grade—the most popular girl in school,” he replies proudly, “And I also kissed a girl I went out with a few times in senior year. On the lips.”

“Oh, no, the _lips?!”_ MJ gasps loudly, covering her hand over her mouth sarcastically. Then, throwing a pillow at him, she laughs, “God, you're such a loser.”

“Why do you even care if I've kissed someone or not?” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Because as much as I hate it, we're inevitably going to have to kiss at least once during this trip,” she says, letting out a long sigh. “And I don't want to have to deal with slobbery, inexperienced ones. Although I probably still will because it's you, you know?”

“What? No. I'm pretty sure we can bypass the kissing thing,” he replies, shaking his head. “I really don't want to kiss you.”

“Yeah, well I really don't want to kiss you either, Parker, but we _are_ supposed to be dating,” she explains, looking at him like he's an idiot. “So of course I'm going to avoid it all costs, but if worse comes to worse, we'll just...do it and get it over with. Hopefully I can scrub it from my brain afterwards.”

“Yeah, it's not exactly on the top of my wish list, either,” he replies snarkily, tossing the pillow back at her. “Or on it at all.”

“You better get all of that disgust out now, because you can't act even a _tiny_ bit repulsed if we have to kiss in front of someone or you'll blow our cover.” she tells him, her voice as calm as ever. “And then I'd have to kill you.”

“I'll try, but I can't make any promises,” he turns around, continuing to pack the rest of his bag.

“You are so goddamn annoying, Parker.”

“Yeah, well so are you, Jones.”

* * *

 MJ sticks around until Ned gets back with the food, she then proceeds to eat about half of it, and then she leaves. So, basically, nothing different than any other day.

Peter ends up packing his toiletries after dinner, grabbing his shampoo, body wash, razor, toothbrush and toothpaste, face wash, and any other thing he thinks he _might_ need on this vacation. After all, he knows nothing except this: he’s going to Hawaii, a wedding there, and he has to pretend to be MJ’s boyfriend. He knows nothing about where they’re staying, who they’re staying with, or what they’ll be doing the entire time.

After finally finishing packing everything, he goes into the living room and sits on the couch, watching Ned play one of his many video games.

“You wanna hang out after you’re finished?” Peter asks him, trying to talk louder than the people on the other side of his headset.

“Yeah, dude, give me a few minutes,” Ned tells him, jamming his fingers against the buttons of his controller.

Turns out it’s _fifteen_ minutes later when the game gets done, but Peter didn’t really mind since it gave him some time to relax and check his social media.

“So what’s up?” Ned asks, setting his headset and controller down, before sitting down beside Peter on the couch.

“This week has been so freaking crazy, so I just wanted to see how your midterms went, and see what you’re doing for spring break and everything,” Peter replies, tucking his phone under his leg.

“My midterms went okay, except for the Calculus one. But that’s only because I didn’t study at _all_ for it,” Ned shrugs, even laughing a little. “But yeah, ninety and up on the others. Uh, and for spring break, I think we’re going to Miami.”

“What? You don’t know where you’re going?” Peter laughs, shaking his head.

“I’ve been busy!” Ned laughs too, gesturing at his game console. “But what about you? Are you excited to go to Hawaii and get it on with MJ?”

“Okay, first of all, it’s _fake,_ all of it,” Peter groans, “And secondly, there will be no “getting it on” with MJ. None. At all. Not even close. No physical affection will even be required, hopefully.”

“You’re an idiot, Peter,” Ned shakes his head, laughing at him.

“What? Why?” Peter asks, completely confused now.

“A pretty girl asks you to go to Hawaii with her, a free trip at that, and wants you to be in a pretend relationship with her? And hold her hand, and put your arm around her, and kiss her? But it doesn’t make your friendship weird, since it’s all pretend, you know? This is like, a dream come true for anyone but you.” Ned crosses his arms, as if that’s the final word on the topic.

“I wouldn’t even call us friends, Ned; we can’t stand each other. We can’t even be in the same room without getting pissed off, let alone fake to _date_ each other. And none of that stuff even sounds _mildly_ appealing to do with MJ. Like, at all.” Peter argues, not even having his best friend to back him up on how bad this is going to suck.

“Yeah, but now that pent up sexual tension can finally be released! Maybe when you get back here you won’t have to fight so much since the attraction will finally be semi-dealt with, you know? Like, all of that built up tension will have been expressed in some way.” Ned replies, and Peter’s jaw practically drops.

“Ned, seriously, where do you get this stuff? Attraction? Pent up...sexual tension? We don’t have that. We hate each other, so how could you possibly get that stuff from hate?” Peter narrows his eyes, his head in a whirlwind.

“Oh my God, Peter, I feel like I’ve taught you nothing,” Ned laughs and sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so first, you guys fighting and bickering all the time is a form of flirting. Maybe not even really a _romantic_ kind of flirting, but the hate you have causes, like, mountains of tension. And not to risk being cliche, but I feel like I could cut the tension with a knife. It’s bad. And, according to every piece of media matching you guys’ specific situation, it will _only_ end in one of you pushing the other against a wall and making out until you’ve gotten all of the tension out. I call it the “I hate you” makeout session. And who knows? Maybe that’s all that’ll happen. But something has to happen or you’re both going to go insane. And _I’m_ going to go insane, too, if I have to deal with you two any longer.”

“This is crazy,” Peter looks at him, swallowing thickly. “You know that, right? It’s crazy. And all _completely_ untrue. I can’t stand her, Ned, and not in an “I’m attracted to her” way. Not at _all._ She’s obnoxious, she’s rude, and she doesn’t think about anyone but herself. It’s not at all what you’re describing!”

“Okay, Peter, sure,” Ned nods, smiling knowingly.

“You’re wrong, okay? I don’t even want to have to _fake_ kiss her, let alone do it willingly.” Peter argues, completely dumbfounded by Ned’s accusations.

“Mhmm, yeah,” Ned nods again, still having that cheesy smile on his face.

“Stop doing that,” Peter laughs, gently pushing Ned’s shoulder. “I’m just saying—none of that’s gonna happen. Now I’m going to bed since I have to be ready at five.”

“Be ready at five so you can go meet MJ and pretend to date her in the romantic and beautiful state of Hawaii?” Ned replies, and Peter groans, pulling himself up from the couch.

“Shut uuuuup, Ned,” Peter whines, padding through the apartment and sporting a middle finger over his shoulder at Ned.

“Fine, I’m done,” Ned laughs, and Peter turns around to look at him as he stands in his doorway. “Wake me up in the morning before you leave, okay?”

“Okay, I will,” Peter tells him, nodding. “Night.”

“Night, dude.”

* * *

 Peter wakes up when his alarm goes off at 4:25, then when his second goes off at 4:30, then the third at 4:35. He finally gets up then, groaning, before going to the bathroom to take a shower. Then he groans again when he was to get out mid-shower because he stupidly packed his shampoo and body wash _yesterday._

When he finally gets out, he still feels half asleep. He groggily puts on his clothes, combs his hair, brushes his teeth, and then turns on the coffee maker in the kitchen and grabs a bagel from the fridge. It’s still dark outside, which makes this all one thousand times harder.

He quickly eats his bagel and downs his coffee, before grabbing his bags and bringing them over to the door. At 4:55, Peter goes to Ned’s room, knocks on the door, and then proceeds to go in.

“Hey, dude, I’m about to leave,” he leans down by his bed, patting Ned’s back.

“God, Peter, get the hell out,” Ned groans loudly, turning his head to the other side.

“You’re the one who wanted me to wake you, remember?” Peter laughs, standing up and yawning.

“Sorry, I’m grumpy,” Ned sighs, hesitates, then turns his head back to look at him. “So when are you getting back again?”

“Next Sunday, I think,” Peter tells him, rubbing the back of his neck. “You?”

“Saturday for me, but I’ll probably stay at moms on Saturday if you won’t be back,” Ned answers, pulling his blanket up to his chin.

“Okay, well I gotta go. MJ’s probably down there about to kill me,” he laughs, leaning down to hug Ned. “Love you, dude, keep in touch. See you next Sunday. And don’t forget to lock the door behind you when you leave later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Love you too,” Ned half-asses his hug, before falling back down on the bed and closing his eyes. “Bye, dude, be careful. Tell MJ I said bye too.”

“You too, and I’ll tell her,” Peter answers, then walks out. He grabs his bags in both hands, looks around his apartment one last time before he leaves, then he heads out.

“Morning,” MJ yawns, moving over in the back of the cab so Peter can get in. “Coffee?”

“I already had some, but...what the hell,” he shrugs, taking the extra from her hand. “Ned said to tell you bye. Before instantly falling _right_ back to sleep.”

“Lucky him,” she whines, leaning her head against the car window. There’s only the _tiniest_ glimpse of light from the sunrise so far. “I wish I was sleeping right now.”

“Yeah, me too,” Peter hums in exhaustion, glancing over at her. He thinks of all of the things Ned said yesterday about them, and he watches as she leans her head against the window, sighing. For a moment then, he wonders if any of it could be true; if maybe all of this _is_ pent up sexual tension, or attraction, or whatever it was Ned said. But then he comes back to his senses and shakes that ridiculous thought away.

He texts May then, letting her know they’re about to get on the flight soon, and that he loves her and he’ll let her know when they made it safely.

They get to the airport, go through security, bag check, and then they finally board the plane.

“Move over—I want the window seat,” she nudges him with her elbow, and he rolls his eyes, but he’s too tired to fight her on it. So he moves.

“So do we have a connecting flight somewhere, or is this a direct one?” Peter asks, leaning his head back on the seat.

“Direct. It’s about ten and a half hours,” she sighs, pulling a pillow from her bag and setting it against the window, laying her head on it. “So I’m taking a nap.”

“Okay, well before you do, where are we staying? A hotel?” Peter asks, suddenly feeling slightly nervous about the whole situation. He hates uncertainty, and this trip seems like it’s going to be filled with it.

“I have no idea,” she replies, practically asleep already. “I guess we’ll see when we get there.”

“So helpful, MJ, really,” he shakes his head, rubbing his temple where his sleep-deprived headache has seemed to settle.

“Mhmm,” is all she replies, snuggling comfortably up into her seat. “This is your very last chance to back out of this deal, Parker. Once the plane takes off, you’re stuck with me for eight days.”

“Don’t remind me,” he sighs, laying back in his seat.

She ends up sleeping on and off for almost ten hours, leaving Peter there listening to music, or watching a movie, or staring at the back of the seat in front of him in boredom. He slept for maybe an hour or so, but it was restless and he woke up with an awful crick in his neck. And even when MJ _is_ awake, she just listens to music or plays sudoku on her phone, ignoring him completely.

So he just waits the plane ride out in complete boredom, his legs cramping up, his back hurting, and his mind completely unstimulated.

“Wake up, we’re finally about to land,” he gently punches MJ’s arm, finally smiling happily at the fact that the transportation part of the trip is over.

He leans over her to look out the window, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of the beautiful, blue water, and the vast amounts of green all around them. The long, tiring trip here finally seems worth it now.

“Idiot,” MJ elbows him, finally sitting up and rubbing her eyes, looking out the window. “Damn, I really slept that long?”

“Yeah, lucky you,” Peter rolls his eyes, stepping out onto the aisle to grab their bags from the overhead bin. He tosses hers into her arms, throws his own over his shoulder, and then they go to get off the plane.

“Mom said she’s almost here,” MJ says slipping her phone into her back pocket. They’re in the airport, grabbing their bags now. As tired as Peter _should_ be (and was half an hour ago), the fact that he’s in Hawaii has made him forget _all_ about that.

He can see palm trees out the window, and the people that he can see going _home_ from their vacation have on leis and are sporting major sunburns.

“So how long has it been since you’ve seen your mom?” Peter asks, jogging behind MJ as she somehow expertly navigates the airport.

“Uh, Christmas,” MJ tells him, and Peter’s mouth drops in surprise. He would _die_ if he hadn’t seen May in that long. “It was awful. Hence the reason I haven’t seen her since.”

Peter wonders how bad her mom could actually be. He’s sort of scared to find out, but he’s hoping MJ’s just exaggerating. He grips his suitcase tighter, suddenly nervous as they step onto an escalator that takes them to the ground floor.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear,” MJ sighs, holding her bags in either hand. Peter looks up, noticing a woman standing at the bottom of the escalator and staring down at her phone. “Say aloha to the worst judgement you’re ever going to receive in a lifetime, Parker.”


	2. Arrival

“Michelle,” MJ’s mom nods at her, glancing over her body, her clothes, in a disappointed manner. Peter is already terrified.

“Mom,” MJ nods back, their greetings incredibly cold. “This is Peter—my boyfriend.”

“Peter…?” her mom glances over at him, narrowing her eyes, now looking over _him_ in a disapproving way.

“Peter Parker,” he smiles, stepping forward and reaching out to shake her hand. She looks down at it, looks up at him, and then reaches her hand out to shake it. He gulps. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s...nice to meet you, too,” she replies, pulling her hand back and wiping it on her pant leg in disgust. Okay, Peter’s nervous, but his hands weren’t _that_ clammy…were they? “It’s about time you found someone, right, Michelle? Let’s go—the car’s waiting.”

“And that’s just the beginning,” MJ whispers, turning to Peter as her mom walks in front of them. Peter’s eyes widen.

“So I noticed you weren’t carrying my daughters bags,” Miss Jones turns to Peter in the middle of the car ride, and MJ groans and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Leave him alone, mom,” MJ tells her, shaking her head.

“Excuse me, I believe I was asking your boyfriend—not you,” her mom replies, and MJ leans back against her seat, sighing. “So, Peter?”

“Um, well,” Peter looks at MJ, trying to figure out what he should say. But she’s just looking at him, waiting for _him_ to come up with something. “She won’t let me. She likes to do things herself, you know? Independence and all that.”

“Hmm,” her mom replies, turning to look out the window. Peter’s pretty sure there was no right answer to that, so he just takes in a long, nervous breath, and looks out the window at the beautiful view. They don’t talk for the rest of the twenty minute car ride.

“Here we are,” her mom sighs, as if she’s bored with everything all the time. “I’ll show you around, but I have a spa appointment in fifteen minutes, so let’s go.”

“Love the enthusiasm,” MJ replies, grabbing her bag from the trunk and following her.

There’s a row of about ten luxurious overwater bungalows on his right out in the water, all connected by one long dock. Beside it, a seemingly-endless beach lined with chairs, and on the right there’s a snack bar, an _actual_ bar, a tennis court, and a line of palm trees behind it. And, as if it couldn’t get better, the sun is just beginning to set, making it even _more_ beautiful.

Peter knows now that as bad as everything might get on this trip, it’ll all be worth it because of this view alone.

“We’re...staying here?” Peter asks, looking around at everything in awe. “Like, in an actual _bungalow?_ On the water?”

“Yes. This section of the island is rented for the week,” her mom replies, gesturing vaguely around herself. “I’ll show you to your bungalow. I thought you two would want the farthest down for the view.”

MJ told him her family was rich, yeah, but he never knew _how_ rich.

Peter looks over at MJ, wondering if she’s thinking the same thing: _we’re sleeping in the same bungalow?_ But she doesn’t even glance over at him; she just follows her mom, bags in hand as she steps onto the dock.

“I’m definitely not missing New York weather at all right now,” MJ sighs, looking up into the sky and feeling the light breeze flow against her.

“Here you are,” her mom stands beside the doorway, but doesn’t enter. “I got some workers to load it with snacks and drinks, but if there’s anything else you need you can go to the snack bar and add it to the tab.”

“Thanks,” MJ replies, stepping inside with her bags.

“Do what you want now, but dinner is at eight. A car will come pick you up at seven forty-five, so be ready.” her mom tells her, not even giving Peter a second glance. “And Michelle? Do something with your hair before then, okay? Kyra and John will be there.”

“Yeah, whatever,” MJ rolls her eyes, and Peter looks at her hair, wondering what her mom sees wrong with it. “Come on, Peter, mom’s got a spa appointment to catch.”

“Thanks, I do,” her mom replies, leaving then. No goodbye. Peter can hear the click of her heels against the dock as she walks back down.  

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, looking at MJ, who is looking around their own private bungalow curiously.

“What? Yeah, why?” she asks, laughing a little. He can tell she’s putting on a face so he can’t see she’s actually hurt by the way her mom treats her, but he doesn’t push further.

“Never mind,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “So...we have to stay together?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighs, setting her bags down beside one side of the bed, marking her territory.

“I don’t know, I just assumed we’d be, like, separated. I mean, that’s a normal thing parents do, right?” Peter asks, looking around. It’s just one, big room, with a bed against the back wall, a small kitchenette on the right side, and the bathroom on the left. Except that _entire_ bathroom “wall” is glass overlooking the water. Which, funnily enough, has the shower and bathtub against it. It’s completely see-through from their room, which means MJ _and_ every fish in the ocean will see him bathing.

And yes, this would be an _amazing_ experience if they were actually together. But to have absolutely _no_ privacy whatsoever while having to share this one room with a girl he doesn’t even _like_ has its drawbacks. At least the toilet has its private room, though.

“My mom doesn’t care if we sleep in the same bed,” MJ shrugs, walking over to examine the mini fridge and everything inside it. “She probably encourages it.”

“Oh,” Peter nods, slightly confused about _why_ she would encourage that.

He shakes the thought and walks over to the bathroom. He steps into the shower (probably the biggest he’s ever seen in his life), and looks out at the water surrounding them. It’s a perfect view from here. “God, this is breathtaking.”

Just then he hears a door open, so he turns around and sees MJ walking out through a _different_ door they came from, one beside the bed that he hadn’t noticed before. So he follows behind her, quickly learning that they have their own private porch. There are two wooden chairs there, and then small steps that MJ is walking down. Peter follows.

“Wow, this is so cool,” he laughs, the steps descending to a small platform on the water where they can easily climb off for swimming.

“We still have an hour before dinner—I’m going swimming,” MJ smiles a little, pushing past him to walk back up the stairs and back into their room. Peter follows behind, but she shuts the door before he can get in, saying, “I’m getting changed into my bikini, creep.”

He would normally complain, but he just turns around and admires the pure beauty in front of him—the blues, the greens, and the contrasting orange from the setting sun.

Before he even realizes it, MJ’s out and walking past him barefooted down the wooden steps to the water. “Hurry up and put those swimming trunks on, Parker.”

Peter actually has to do a double take when she passes him. No, he’s never found her _ugly_ at all, but then again, he’s never looked at her in _that_ way. But now that she’s here, in her tiny yellow bikini, he wonders how he never _has_ seen her this way before. So tall, so graceful, so… _pretty._

“Gross,” he whispers under his breath, shaking the thought from his head. And then he has to remind himself that _this is MJ. Evil, mean MJ who hates you and you hate her._ He shakes his head, takes in a long breath, and pushes his fingers through his hair.

He walks into the bungalow and shuts the door, digging through his bag to grab his swim shorts. He takes all of his clothes off, and quickly pulls his trunks on. The big, glass wall is going to make him nervous this entire trip, he already knows it.

“The water is amazing,” MJ sighs, holding onto the dock. “Come on, weirdo.”

“Shut up,” he replies, but it’s decently lighthearted. He’s too happy right now to actually be annoyed by her taunts. So when he gets to the bottom platform, he runs and jumps in.

“God, it is amazing,” he pushes his hair back, resurfacing from the perfect-temperature water.

She goes back underwater and swims around, not paying him any more attention.

“MJ?” Peter asks a few minutes later, unable to get it off his mind.

“Hmm?” she asks, in the process of putting her wet hair in a ponytail.

“Has your mom always been like that?” he asks hesitantly, unsure of how to ask a question so serious—especially when they _never_ talk about anything serious.

MJ stops her movements then, turning to look at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but...” she sighs, shrugging, “Yeah. She has.”

“Okay,” Peter nods, trying not to make anything weird between them, or push her too hard to talk about something she doesn’t want to talk about.

“If you think you’ve seen the worst of it, Peter, you haven’t,” MJ replies, wading in the water carelessly. “It gets worse. A lot worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter swallows thickly, trying to console her. “I mean, I hate you, but it still sucks.”

“Great save,” she laughs, pushing her hair back. “Now shut up and let’s swim before we have to go to that horrific family dinner.”

So they do swim, for about half an hour. MJ gets out around the thirty minute mark, having to get out and take a shower to get ready. Peter keeps swimming until she gets out and finished, neither wanting to face the awkwardness of him seeing her naked in the all-glass shower.

“Your turn,” she walks out of the bungalow, plopping down onto one of the chairs then. He pulls himself onto the dock, towels off the excess water from his skin and hair briefly, before walking up the stairs.

She looks over his wet, half-naked body, before turning the other way. He ignores it, only glad she didn’t make a jab at his appearance. Even though he’s decently secure in the way he’s gained abs and hardened his muscles over the past few years, he knows she would find _something_ to mess with him about. Maybe even that itself. He can hear it now, _“who are you getting all buff for, Peter? Trying to impress me?”_

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a dress,” Peter laughs, looking at her as he continues to towel-dry his hair. Which is semi-pointless when he’s about to get in the shower, but still. It gives him a reason to be standing here talking to her. Not that he _wants_ to, or anything. “Or fix your hair.”

“Well I figured that if I went all the way out of my way to get a fake boyfriend, I guess I could go ahead and wear one of the dresses she bought me, too,” MJ replies, closing her eyes to bask in the warm sun. “I’ll get yelled at either way most likely, but whatever. Maybe less this time.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually giving in,” Peter crosses him arms, tilting his head in confusion. “It’s not like you.”

“I’ve put up with her bullshit since I was a kid, Parker,” MJ looks up at him with narrow, annoyed eyes, clenching her jaw. “I’ve finally figured out the only way to get along with her is to just…stop fighting it. As much as I hate it, it’s only for a week. Only a week.”

“Oh. Got it,” he nods, now feeling a bit awkward as he shifts his weight from foot-to-foot. He expected her to retaliate more than that, and now that she hasn’t, he feels like a jerk. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Yeah, you should definitely do that,” MJ looks up at him, smirking a little.

“Shut up,” he shakes his head and throws his towel at her, smiling as he starts walking in. Right before he does, though, he hesitates before turning around. “You better not come in here while I’m showering—I saw the way you checked me out a second ago and wouldn’t put it past you to _accidentally_ walk in.”

“Does it get you all hot when I check you out?” She asks, looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, his hand pressed against the doorway. “Well I guess it’s too bad, because I _didn’t_ check you out. So if you’re planning on releasing the metaphorical tension in the shower, you’re just gonna have to hold onto the ridiculous delusion and hope it gets you through.”

“Why are you so obsessed with the thought of me…” he starts, swallowing thickly as he forces the words out, crossing his arms. “getting off?”

“Ooh, what a dirty mouth you have on you, Peter Parker,” her jaw drops with a small smile, shocked he actually said it. “Are you a bad boy?”

“You’re ridiculous and I hate you,” he sighs, walking inside as she laughs at him.

When he finally gets inside, he gets into the shower and lets the hot, steaming water pour over him. He runs his fingers through his damp hair, sighing as he finally gets to relax.

After a few minutes he finally opens his eyes and sees the view. And yeah, at first he thought the glass wall was weird to have in a bathroom, but he gets it now. He can see miles out into the clear, blue ocean, and see the palm trees, and part of the beach, and it’s one of the most beautiful and relaxing things he’s ever experienced. He knows the worst of this trip hasn’t happened yet, but this right now is paradise.

“Hurry up—we have to be at the beach in ten minutes for our car!” MJ beats on the back door, alerting him.

“Fine!” He yells back, groaning as he finally starts to get moving. He showers at record speed after that, hops out, puts on his boxers, and then sorts through his clothes to find something nice to wear. “Hey, MJ, what should I wear?! I only h-”

“Here,” MJ walks in, brushing past him and digging through his suitcase.

“Oh my God, I could have been naked!” He exclaims, throwing his arms out dramatically.

“Not like it would have seen anything life-changing, I’m sure,” she replies, throwing a shirt and pants at him. “Wear these.”

“And you’re just gonna stand right there while I put them on?” Peter asks, looking at her.

“Yeah, I am,” She replies, her arms crossed as she stares at him. “Well?”

“God,” he sighs in annoyance, grabbing the pants and pulling them on. She watches him, her face unchanging even when he buttons his pants, and then pulls his shirt on over his head. “Happy?”

“Mhmm,” She replies, looking at him and tilting her head. “Now let me fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Peter scoffs, backing up slightly as she walks towards him.

“It’s messy,” she replies, stepping forward and pushing her fingers through it. Peter swallows thickly. “Which is fine when we’re in New York, but not when we’re at a fancy dinner with my perfectionist mother.”

“Fine,” he replies, standing there as her long, slender fingers sink into his hair, tucking the flyaways down and the rest of it to the side. Then when she’s done, she steps back, looks at him, tilts her head, and then nods. “Okay, that’s better.”

“And shoes?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheek. She stops her movements then, staring at him.

“Am I...making you nervous, Parker?” She asks, narrowing her eyes and scanning his face, his body language curiously.

“What? No, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, walking over to the bedside table, to his phone.

“Oh my God, Peter, look at me,” she turns him around, studying his face. “What the hell is going on with you? Are you blushing?”

“No, I’m not _blushing,_ MJ,” he gulps, now feeling weirdly sweaty. “Leave me alone, it’s just...hot in here.”

“God, you’re weird,” she laughs, looking at him. She’s still trying to figure him out. “So are you gonna get a boner if I tell you to wear these shoes, or…?”

“Shut up,” he breathes out in a groan, knowing he’ll never be able to live this down. _He_ doesn’t even know what just came over him right then. It was just that a pretty girl was standing in front of him in a low cut dress, running her fingers through his hair, vanilla chapstick on her lips.

But it’s _MJ._ MJ. He keeps having to tell himself that.

“Let’s go or we’ll be late—then mom will hate you forever,” she tells him, finishing putting her sandals on.

“I think she already does,” he laughs nervously, as they finally walk out of the bungalow, and into the cool, breezy air. They hear the waves crashing against the shore, and the sky is so clear that they can _easily_ see hundreds of twinkling stars in it.

“I know we’re both trying to forget about what we’re about to have to do, but we need to...figure out some things,” MJ tells him, as they walk down the long, seemingly-endless dock.

“Like what?” He asks, looking over at her moon-lit face.

“My mom, her sister, and her soon-to-be brother-in-law are going to be there,” she tells him with a long sigh, “which means we’re _seriously_ going to have to turn the relationship thing up a notch.”

“As in…?” Peter asks, finally getting to the sand.

“Holding hands, flirting, whispering to each other. The whole nine,” she answers, running her fingers through her curly hair. “Let’s just get through it, get it over with, then we can come back to our sanctuary and forget it all ever even happened.”

“It may not be possible to forget with how traumatized it’s going to make me,” he smiles a little, and she laughs, gently punching his shoulder.

“It’s grosser for me, Parker,” she shakes her head at the thought, then turns to him while they walk. “You know you can’t fall in love with me, right? I know I’m going to be amazing at playing the part and it’ll be hard not to, but don’t get caught up—none of it’s real. It’ll ruin our whole I-come-over-and-steal-your-food-and-nap-on-your-couch dynamic, and I can’t afford that.”

“I _really_ don’t think you have to worry about that,” he scoffs, widening his eyes at the thought.

“Don’t get cocky now—just wait until you see my moves,” she shrugs, seeming confident in the matter. “There’s the car.”

He looks up, seeing the same black car they arrived in earlier driving up. He looks over, the beach now lit up with stringed lights along the bar, the tennis court, the palm trees along the beach.

“God, this place is so beautiful,” Peter sighs, smiling around at everything.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go before my mom kills us for being late,” MJ laughs, getting in the car and pulling him in next to her.  

“God, I’m nervous,” Peter sighs, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants.

“I was going to say don’t be, but...I never know how my mom’s going to act, so it might be best to just go prepared for anything,” she replies, shaking her head. “I’m sorry in advance for any awful thing she might say or do.”

“Hey, I agreed to this, didn’t I?” Peter laughs, trying to lighten the mood even though he’s terrified. “I’ll be fine.”

When they arrive, the restaurant is set out on the beach and covered in rich, fancy people. Peter instantly feels out of place, but puts on a confident face so maybe no one _notices_ he’s doesn’t fit in somewhere so nice.

“Hold my hand,” MJ whispers, as a waiter takes them to be seated at her mom's table.

Peter reaches down, breathes in, and tangles their fingers together. They walk up to the table, her mom looking down at her phone as they approach.

“We’re here,” MJ smiles a little, squeezing his hand. Her mom looks up at them, and Peter instantly feels uneasy.

“Jesus, Michelle, Kyra and John are going to be here in _minutes_ and you couldn’t bother to even put on a little bit of makeup to make yourself look presentable?” Her mom stands up from the table, grabbing her arm and pulling her away to the bathroom. “Come with me.”

Peter and MJ’s hands pull apart then, and he gulps, left alone now at this incredibly fancy restaurant. And he feels awful for MJ, too, who even went out of her comfort zone to please her mom and it was somehow still not good enough.

He waits five minutes, ten minutes, and right when he starts to get worried, he spots MJ and her mom approaching, MJ looking completely drained of energy while her mom still primps her on their way over.

MJ walks over and sits down beside Peter, now wearing lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara. She pushes her hair back, before taking a huge drink of her mom’s margarita from across the table.

“At least you look _pretty_ now while you’re being completely rude,” her mom rolls her eyes, snatching the drink from her hands. “Doesn’t she just look so much better, Peter? I don’t know why you’d even put up with her if she can’t even _try_ to look pretty for you on occasion. It’s an awful waste.”

Peter is in absolute shock. Not only that _anyone_ could say something so mean, so wrong, but especially a mother figure; someone who is supposed to love you and tell you look beautiful all the time, even if you don’t feel that way. _Not_ this.

Peter looks over at MJ, who is looking down at the table, her finger tracing over her napkin. He gulps as he reaches over, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

“Actually, Miss Jones, I don’t agree,” he tells her, and MJ turns to look at him. Her mom looks confused, annoyed, but Peter doesn’t even care. “I think she’s always beautiful. And even if she wasn’t—which she is—beauty isn’t everything, anyway.”

You wouldn’t think that saying something _nice_ about someone would warrant such a look of pure hatred from their mother, but in this case it has.

MJ looks over at him, smiling a little as to say _thank you._ He nods, smiling back.

“Finally,” her mom speaks up, and Peter and MJ look over at her. He thinks she’s retaliating at him for a moment, before he sees what she’s looking at: a couple approaching, which he assumes is the expected family members.

“She gets really fake around my Aunt Kyra. She’s super jealous—which is one of the reasons that she wants me to look _perfect_ all the time.” MJ whispers to Peter, and he nods, finding it all completely ridiculous.

“Michelle! It’s so good to see you,” the aunt comes over, giving her a hug. “And this is…?”

“Peter,” MJ smiles, pulling back from their hug and clutching Peter’s hand. “My boyfriend.”

“Oh, boyfriend?” her aunt looks at Peter, sizing him up, trying to decide what she thinks. “I can’t believe you finally did it. Your mom _always_ talked about how it would never happen!”

“Yeah, well,” MJ replies, sighing.

“Hi, Peter,” she reaches her hand out, he shakes it with a greeting, before she turns and says, “John? This is Michelle’s boyfriend. Can you _believe_ that?”

Peter and the aunt’s fiance shake hands then, and while Peter is smiling at him, this guy is shooting him daggers with just a look. So _none_ of her family members are nice, then. Good to know.

“Oh, I know,” MJ’s mom laughs, sitting back down in her chair to sip her margarita. “At first when she told me she was bringing someone, I thought she was lying! I thought she would arrive, and make up some lie about how he couldn’t come, and that would be that. But here he is, holding Michelle’s hand.”

“And I’m so incredibly happy,” MJ ignores the snide comments from her mom and aunt, laying her head on Peter’s shoulder. He breathes in nervously, putting on a smile as he wraps his arm around her.

“What an adorable couple. So how did you meet?” The aunt asks, snapping at the waiter to bring a drink. He feels MJ tense up at the rude gesture, but he squeezes her arm soothingly to calm her down, and remind her that all of this is an act anyway. They can do this. “I thought we might have to setup an intervention for you if you showed up to _my_ wedding without a date. But it looks like you’re finally putting some care into the way you look, so good for you. It must have paid off!”

Peter feels angry. Seriously _mad,_ as MJ puts her arms around him and tries to act like everything’s okay while they tear her down completely over _everything._ It’s especially awful when it’s over something so stupid and shallow as the way she looks.

“Babe, you want me to tell the story?” Peter asks, smiling down at her. He doesn’t want her to have to talk or pretend everything’s okay right now, because it’s not. It can’t be.

MJ nods, gulping. “Yeah, sure. It sounds better when you tell it anyway.”

“Awww,” they all reply, tilting their heads as they wait for Peter to start. He’s so nervous his hands are shaky—scared he’s going to mess it up and ruin it, or get asked a question he can’t answer. But he’s doing it for MJ, because he knows he would want someone to do it for him if he had been in this situation.

“So, we...we went to Midtown together our entire four years of high school. We had classes together, academic decathlon, everything. But we weren’t really close, you know? She had her life, I had mine, and that was that. But when we got into NYU, we sort of just…spent a lot of time together since we were the only people we knew. We started eating our lunch together, hanging out in between classes, helping each other with homework. And I just found myself...falling for her. I mean, how could I not?” He laughs, swallowing thickly as he turns to look at her. She’s already looking at him with a smile, batting her eyelashes with a small laugh.

They all let out another round of “aww”’s, before he keeps going. He’s laying the romance stuff on _especially_ thick since he figured out that they just _never_ thought anyone would like her. He wants to rub it in their faces.

“I knew we were friends, but there was just something about her that I couldn’t get over. I wanted to be with her all the time, every day. I started getting butterflies around her, even though I’d known her better than anyone else. So one day, while we were at my apartment watching a movie, I just turned to her and asked, “will you go out with me?” I think it weirded her out a little since we’d been friends for a few months then, but turns out she felt the same way. We’ve been together ever since.”

MJ reaches up and smiles at him, her palm pressing against his cheek, her thumb stroking it gently. This is actually a lot easier than he initially thought it would be; especially since MJ is so good at it, always taking the lead.

“I’m just _so_ happy for you two,” Her mom exclaims, reaching over to hold MJ’s hand. MJ grabs it back hesitantly, and they both turn to look at her. “I never thought this day would come.”

“I don’t see why not; your daughter is amazing,” Peter shrugs, putting his arm around her. He’s trying to stick up for her without being rude and starting a fight, but he’s already tired of listening to them talk about how they _never_ thought their poor little Michelle would _ever_ find someone to love her. It’s gross. “She’s smart, funny, beautiful, caring. I think she just didn’t date anyone because _she_ didn't want to—not because there was no one that wanted to date _her.”_

“Hmm,” is all her mom replies, raising an annoyed eyebrow and stirring her drink slowly as she stares at him. He feels her eyes boring into him like he’s the scum of the earth.

“So when are we ordering?” MJ speaks up, trying to change the conversation and hopefully lighten the mood. “I’m starving.”

“Well, you don’t look it,” her mom replies under her breath with a laugh, before using her hand to beckon the waiter.

Peter opens his mouth to say something, so pissed he’s practically fuming, but MJ grabs his arm.

“It’s okay,” she mouths to him, shaking her head slightly. He breathes out, trying to calm himself down. Yes, MJ told him they were awful, but he never imagined they could be _this_ awful.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, looking in her eyes to see if she’s okay. As much as they don’t get along, the way she’s being treated is so awful that he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“What are we whispering about over there?” her aunt Kyra asks, looking between them with a smile. Peter snaps out of their private conversation, suddenly laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing inappropriate, I hope.”

“Oh, it’s _definitely_ inappropriate,” MJ bites her lip, looking at Peter with a wink. He just shakes his head and laughs, embarrassed that all of these eyes are staring at him—the guy who is having sexual relations with their daughter/niece. It’s pretty humiliating. “I can’t keep my hands off this guy.”

“Please, Michelle,” her mom sighs, rubbing her temples dramatically.

“They’re young and in love, sissy, leave them alone,” Kyra replies, nudging her sister’s arm. “I think it’s adorable.”

The waiter approaches them then, and MJ discreetly raises her eyebrow at Peter, laughing and mouthing, “having fun yet?” He just nudges her and laughs, pushing his hair back as he breathes in. He’s just glad _that_ conversation is over.

After they order, there’s a long silence while they wait. Peter holds MJ’s hand, tracing his fingers over her knuckles gently to distract himself from the situation. And right now, feeling sorry for MJ more than anything, he can’t remember why he’s always hated her so much.

“You don’t plan on actually eating _all_ of that, do you Michelle?” Her mom comments, looking down at the massive burger and fries the waiter just delivered. She found the _least_ fancy thing she could on the menu, of course, which pissed her mom off even more.

“I do, actually,” MJ nods, smiling happily as she takes a bite. Peter looks at her proudly, smiling as he props his chin on his fist. “And I’m gonna enjoy every bite.”

Her mom looks like she’s going to have a stroke, but she doesn’t say anything else about it. Which Peter and MJ are both extremely happy about, actually.

“So, Peter, since my niece is obviously so taken with you, what makes you special?” Her aunt asks, putting him on the spot. “What do you study at school? What are your parents like?”

“I...actually was raised by my aunt,” he explains, setting his fork down. “My parents were in an accident when I was really young. But, um, I’m majoring in computer science at NYU.”

“Sorry about your parents,” Kyra replies, and Peter can hear MJ sigh under her breath at the insensitivity in her voice. “So computer science, huh? Sounds smart.”

“He is—top of his class in high school, and all A’s last semester at NYU,” MJ brags, squeezing his bicep. Although Peter knew this was what he was getting himself into, it’s still weird to see MJ all smiley and lovey and nice and bragging on him.

They talk about school for a little while longer, but then the night drags on and on and on. It feels like they’re all taking _forever_ to eat their desert while he and MJ are just ready for this night to finally be over with.

“I think we should head on to the bar, yeah?” her mom now looks down at her empty glass, before glancing at her sister.

“A great plan,” her aunt replies, grabbing her almost-husbands arm. The same almost-husband who hasn’t said one word this entire dinner—just sipped on his glass of scotch the whole night.

“You kids go back to your room—we’ll be there later,” her mom tells them, grabbing her wallet from the table and already moving to the bar.

“Wait—we need money for, uh...souvenirs,” MJ tells her mom, who blindly sticks her hand in her wallet, hands MJ a fifty dollar bill, and then walks off.

“As if they aren’t drunk enough,” MJ sighs, standing up and setting the fifty down on the table as an extra tip for their poor waiter. “You ready, Parker?”

“So ready,” Peter laughs in response, tidying up the table as much as he can before they leave. Except now MJ has taken her shoes off, and she’s walking down the steps to the beach, off of the deck where the restaurant is. “Where are you going?”

“We can walk from here,” MJ tells him, and he looks around at all of the fancy people watching them; the two young kids that are taking their shoes off at the nicest restaurant he’s ever been at. But he just looks back at MJ, and takes his shoes off too, following her to the beach.

“I believed you when you said they were awful, but...that was seriously way worse than I imagined,” he gulps, jogging to catch up to her. “Are you okay? Really?”

“Don’t get all soft on me just because you feel bad for me, Parker,” she groans, pushing her fingers through her hair and looking down at her toes in the sand. “I’ve dealt with this my whole life—I’m fine. Yeah, it sucks, but I’ll get through it. You better not start treating me all nice and stuff because of it.”

“Psssht, what? I...still hate you, obviously, I just didn’t realize how sucky your family is, is all,” Peter tells her, looking out at the ocean and wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. “I don’t, like, feel bad for you.”

“Sure,” she laughs, looking over at him with a roll of her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Really? Well I _was_ top of my class at Midtown, _and_ got all A’s last semester,” he teases her, and she groans, unable to keep from smiling herself.

“God, don’t bring anything from that dinner back up to me, okay? I was using some of my survival skills I learned to use a _long_ time ago in this family. It was self preservation, really.” she tries to convince him, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “I personally don’t think you’re all that.”

“Oh yeah? What about how you just _can’t_ keep your hands off of me?” he replies confidently, unable to help himself from messing with her.

“You just keep wishing that was real, Parker,” she sighs, shaking her head as she kneels down, running her hand across the water slowly. “Because that’s as close to us ever being together that you’re ever going to get.”

“And I’m so very torn up about that,” he replies sarcastically, sitting down on the sand, feeling the cool tide run up, wash over his feet, then retreat back down to rejoin the rest of the ocean.

“It’s going to be super embarrassing for you when you have to think back on this moment at the end of the week, as you’re confessing your undying love for me, knowing just how wrong you were at this exact second,” she shrugs, reaching down to cup her hands in the water, using it to wash the makeup from her face.

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” he laughs incredulously, shaking his head at the mere thought.

After they stay there for a while, they finally begin their trek back to the bungalows. He can’t complain about the long walk, though; they’re surrounded by palm trees, sand, the sound of the ocean, and the beautiful moon above them. It’s the most enjoyable and relaxing walk he’s probably ever had.

It’s around half an hour later when they get back, walking barefooted on the long dock in silence as they make their way to the end.

“I think that jet lag is finally catching up to me,” Peter laughs, yawning as he digs through his suitcase for his pajamas.

“I’m actually not even that tired,” MJ shrugs, pulling at the string at the back of her dress before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. Well, the toilet and sink room, technically.

“Yeah, that’s because you _slept_ the entire plane ride,” Peter laughs, sitting down on the bed to take his shoes off. He then changes into sweatpants and puts on some socks, before grabbing his toothbrush and waiting for MJ to get done.

“All yours,” she walks out, their shoulders brushing as he passes her. Her hair is up again, and she’s wearing her pajamas: an old and worn out oversized Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, shorts, and ankle socks. He takes in a breath, shutting the door.

When he’s done brushing his teeth and using the bathroom, he walks out, seeing MJ curled up in bed, turned toward the glass wall and staring out it.

“Want me to turn the lights out?” he asks, glancing over at her.

“No, I think I wanna sleep with the lights on for the first time in my life,” she replies sarcastically, and he sighs loudly, making his way to the lightswitch. Halfway there he reaches over his shoulders, pulls his shirt off, tosses it across the room in the general vicinity of his suitcase, then shuts the light off.

“Wait, turn it back on,” MJ tells him, and he can hear her sit up in bed.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” he asks, flipping the switch back on. As soon as he does, he sees MJ staring at him in annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks him, using her hand to gesture at his naked upper-half. “It’s bad enough we have to share a bed—you aren’t allowed to just, like, take your shirt off.”

“What? You literally saw me shirtless at the beach today,” he replies, completely confused. He thought there was _actually_ something wrong for a second.

“It’s different,” she replies furrowing her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

“I can’t sleep with a shirt on! I get too hot,” he replies, groaning. “Seriously, it’s not like I’m even going to be near you anyway.”

“Yeah? Well how would you feel if _I_ slept shirtless two feet away from you?” she asks, scoffing at him.

“Actually, go ahead,” he shrugs, smiling proudly.

“Gross,” she grumbles, throwing a pillow at him. “Just put a freaking shirt on, Parker.”

“God, and you talk about _me_ being a prude,” he sighs in defeat, walking over to his suitcase to grab it again. “What is it, anyway? Scared you’re getting too attracted to me or something?”

“Oh yeah, you caught me,” she replies in the most deadpan voice, and he—for the millionth time tonight—rolls his eyes at her as he pulls the shirt back on and over his head. He goes and turns the light back off then, before fumbling around the dark room for the bed. He finally gets in, under the sheets, sighing at the relaxation.

“If I even feel your _body_ _heat_ near me you’re dead, Parker,” she tells him threateningly, as he slides his arm beneath his pillow, snuggling against it. “You better not try anything.”

“I’ll definitely try and hold myself back,” he replies, irritation evident in his voice. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, idiot,” she replies, restlessly adjusting her position for the next five minutes.

“Jesus, could you stop moving for half a second?” Peter groans, now tossing and turning himself to try and get comfortable.

“Screw you, Parker,” she pushes back at the same level of annoyance, finally settling into a comfortable enough spot.

He replays the day in his head like he does every night, and, despite dinner and the long ass plane ride, it was actually pretty good. He hears the ocean waves distantly, calming him as he starts drifting off.

“Peter?” MJ whispers, and he can hear her swallow thickly in the almost completely silent room. It’s been half an hour since they laid down now.

“Yeah?” He replies quietly, barely even conscious now. She hesitates a bit, and Peter’s unsure if she’s even going to answer.

“Thanks for sticking up for me at dinner,” she finally says, forcing it out. It’s something he knows she could never say to him to his face in the daylight, where she’s vulnerable. “Pretend or not—it sort of made me feel kind of better about it.”

“Yeah, MJ,” he tells her, the shock of what she’s saying bringing him fully back awake now. “Of course. Anytime.”

“Okay,” she replies awkwardly, unsure of what to say from there. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” he answers, his eyes wide open now, staring out the glass window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter! Hope you guys like where this is going—I appreciate all the feedback!
> 
> (P.S. I considered doing the whole "see her with her hair done and makeup on and fall in love with her" cliche, but then I realized I found it extremely sexist, and also out of character for Peter! Plus, that isn't who MJ is, and I definitely have to respect that!)


	3. Altercations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so much for your support! I read all of your comments, and it seriously makes my day 100x better :) Anyway, sorry for the late update, but this one is super long, so I hope you enjoy!

Peter wakes up the next day to the sound of ocean waves and seagulls. He isn’t sure what time it is, but their room is filled with sunlight and the smell of the ocean and fresh Hawaiian air.

He sits up a little, rubbing his eyes. After being so jet lagged yesterday, it takes him longer than he cares to admit to even _remember_ that he’s not home in his apartment.

He turns to look at the other side of the bed when he remembers MJ is there next to him. She’s still fast asleep; one of her arms curled beneath her head, the other laying flat against the sheet beneath her. Her lips are parted slightly as she breathes evenly, and he lays back down against the bed and yawns, trying not to wake her. He’s actually pretty impressed that she’s still asleep since she slept so much yesterday.

He turns and looks out the glass window, smiling at the beauty of it and the excitement of all the new things he’s going to experience on this vacation. He can’t remember the last time he woke up and felt this happy and carefree, and it almost feels surreal to be here right now.

So he clasps his hands together and puts them behind his head, his elbows pointed up as he tries to fully relax and enjoy all of his beautiful surroundings. He glances over at MJ again, savoring this rare moment where she doesn’t have a scowl on her face and she’s not mocking him. She’s just there, her face and body relaxed, and she actually looks peaceful. It’s sort of weird to see her like this.

He’s still staring at her when there’s a loud knock on the door, startling him. He lays down and closes his eyes then, pretending to be asleep.

“God,” MJ groans loudly, pulling the pillow over her head.

“Michelle? Peter? We’re having a family tennis game in twenty minutes! Open up!” Her aunt knocks on the door, and Peter shifts to his side, turning toward MJ.

“Get up and get the door,” MJ kicks him beneath the blanket, dropping her arm over the pillow that’s still on her head.

“No! She’s your aunt—that’s weird!” he insists, whispering so she can’t hear him. “I’m not going to...to answer the door after she knows we just slept together!”

“Everyone here already thinks we’re screwing, Peter!” MJ pulls the blanket and pillow from her head, very clearly annoyed. She squints her eyes, hair in her face as she stares at him.

“That doesn’t make me feel _any_ better,” he replies, and then her aunt knocks on the door _again._

“You’re absolutely no help,” she groans again in frustration, pulling the blanket off of herself and walking sleepily to the door. Peter sits up and fixes his hair, breathing in.

“Good morning!” Her aunt walks in, already having a cocktail in her hand, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head with her other. “Sleepyhead’s—it’s already almost ten! Michelle you need to come to my room for a few minutes to put on your new outfit. Oh, and I brought a gift for you—something I think Peter might really like too if you know what I mean.”

She pulls a decent-sized box from the beach bag hanging on her arm, the box wrapped in a pink bow.

“Oh, like a shared gift thing?” Peter smiles and stands up to look, unsure of what they’re talking about. MJ just subtly shakes her head at him, sighing. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, as MJ pulls the bow off, and opens the box.

Her aunt smiles and takes a sip of her drink, anxiously waiting for MJ to see what it is.

“Oh...yay,” MJ forces a smile, pulling a black piece of fabric from the box. It’s silk and lace and ninety-five percent see-through, and Peter gulps. Her family is _so_ weird.

“I’m so glad you’re grown enough now for me to be able to give you things like this,” Kyra sighs, patting her on the back. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” MJ laughs, setting it back down and picking up the matching thong. There’s practically nothing even there to hold up as her fingers hold the strings on either side. “Thanks, Aunt Kyra. Too bad we didn’t have this last night, huh, Peter?”

“I know it may be weird to you since I’m family and all, but I saw it and couldn’t help myself! And you’re both grown adults, so I refuse to be one of those old people who’s oblivious to the fact that my niece is having sex. I think it’s very good and healthy for you. Just don’t tell your mother about this—she may kill me.” Her aunt laughs a little, and Peter swallows thickly, still not finding the courage to say anything. “I have the same set—John couldn’t keep his hands off me!”

“So how do _you_ like this, babe?” MJ holds it up in front of him, biting her lip and raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh yeah, I...can’t wait to see you wear that,” he nods, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. MJ is enjoying herself way too much right now.

“Aww, he’s so shy,” MJ walks over and lays her head on his shoulder, looking at him pitifully. “Gentlemen in the streets but a freak in the sheets is what I tell people. You’d never expect the moves this guy has.” MJ laughs, fanning herself dramatically.

Peter wants to die.

“Well I guess we should go get that tennis outfit, yeah?” MJ squeezes Peter’s arm, before crossing the room to her aunt, placing the underwear back in the box.

“Yes! I bought a tennis set for you too, Peter,” her aunt pulls a gift bag out now, handing it over to him. “Me and Michelle will just be a few rooms down—meet us in ten!”

“Okay, yeah,” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck. His heart is still racing from the complete humiliation. “Bye!”

“Wait a minute. I _know_ you want to kiss goodbye, so go ahead,” her aunt laughs, watching them. “I’ll turn away if you want.”

“No, we...we’re fine,” MJ waves her off, walking away from Peter. “We kissed a _lot_ last night if you know what I mean.”

Peter sighs, flushing a deep red again. Does she _have_ to say things like that?

“Come on, I’m supposed to be the cool aunt, right?” Kyra explains, turning MJ around to face Peter. They’re looking in each other’s eyes, finally having to face the moment they’ve both been dreading. “So give me a chance to be!”

“I think you already covered that base when you gave me lingerie,” MJ mutters, and Peter can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well, I read that you’re supposed to give one every time you leave them, and every time you greet them. Secret to a great relationship!”

“Okay,” MJ nods, stepping forward. Peter is so tense and rigid, that he feels like he can barely even move his legs to walk to her. “I’m about to kiss you then, Peter. On the lips. I’m gonna kiss my boyfriend.”

“Mhmm,” Peter nods, taking in a long breath as they get close. His head is spinning.

He thought MJ might hesitate, might look at him to have one of those silent conversations they always seem to be having when her family is around. But she doesn’t. She just leans in, puts her hands on either side of his face, and presses her lips to his.

His heartbeat is loud in his ears then, as he puts his hands on her arms, pulling her closer, somehow still being able to taste vanilla on her lips from her chapstick the night before. Her hand slowly falls across his cheek, his neck, before she places it flat against his chest. He feels her warm, wet lips pressing into his gently, slowly, expertly.

“Okay, gotta go,” she replies against his lips, before pulling away. Then, brushing past her aunt and walking out the door, she says, “happy?” He can still hear her aunt talking about how it should become habitual, before their voices fade out and there’s only the waves again.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing in deeply and mentally going over what just happened. He reaches up and lightly touches his fingers to his swollen lips, before running his fingers through his hair and sighing. It wasn’t bad, no; it’s actually quite the opposite, which freaks him out even worse. It was good. A great kiss, even, which is confusing. He thought it would be repulsive, disgusting, gag-worthy, but it wasn’t. And it’s weird to experience something new with a person you’ve known for so long. But at least the initial scare factor is over with, and it won’t have to be nearly as terrifying if they have to do it again. And hopefully it’ll look more natural.

He wonders how MJ feels about it.

Shaking all of his thoughts away, he stands up, grabs the bag her aunt gave him, and puts his new tennis outfit on. A white nike shirt, shorts, headband (but he purposely passes on that one), socks, and even a brand new pair of Nike sneakers. This must have all been _so_ expensive, and that alone makes him feel weird.

He composes himself one more time, before heading out. He doesn’t spot them yet, so he sits at the edge of the dock, hanging his feet off of the edge of it while he waits.

“Ready, Peter?” MJ asks, her voice loud enough to reach him from down the dock.

“Yeah, coming,” he gets up, slightly embarrassed as he walks up in his all-white tennis gear.

“How cute,” MJ grins, looking his outfit up and down, trying not to laugh.

“Same to you,” he fakes a smile, looking over her white tank top and _extremely_ short skirt.

“You’re greeting again, so…” her aunt starts, looking between them. MJ looks at him in defeat, before stepping forward.

“We’re just not into the whole...PDA thing,” MJ tells her, as Peter tries to act nonchalant about it. He wishes they could just get it over with. “Not with kissing, at least.”

“Well it’s just me! And besides, it’s not like it’s making out or anything. Just a kiss. It’s like a hug or a handshake; it shows them you care.” her aunt insists, and Peter takes in a breath, putting on his brave face. He wants MJ to just shut up and kiss him so he can finally focus on _anything_ else. “See? I’m looking away now to give you privacy. It’s not about me, it’s about you guys’ relationship with each other.”

“I know, but-” MJ starts again, ready to argue. But Peter gently grabs her chin mid-talking, and kisses her. She’s tense at first, not expecting it, but then she kisses back—her shoulders relaxing.

This one only lasts a second or two before Peter pulls back, ending it.

“See? Easy,” he shrugs, putting his arm around her. “She’s acting like she doesn’t want to kiss me _all the time.”_ Peter laughs, and she shakes her head, discreetly nudging him in the ribs.

“There you go, Peter, great job!” Kyra laughs, walking alongside them as they make their way towards the beach finally. “It’s helped John and I to just...be in the moment, and appreciate each other. It’s a great habit to pick up, and you’ll even forget you’re doing it eventually!”

“Oh, great,” MJ nods and smiles, but Peter knows her well enough to see that the thought of that is making her miserable. He can’t help but silently agree.

“You know, a few of your cousins are getting in late tomorrow night,” she tells them, now stepping onto the sand.

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” MJ asks, and Peter breathes in. He’s not sure if he can take any more family, and the thought makes him nervous.

“Jennifer and Abby. Jennifer’s bringing her new boyfriend from school, too!” she tells them excitedly, and MJ nods. Peter makes a mental note to ask her about that later.

When they get to the court, they all grab a tennis racket from the bins. While no one is paying attention, he takes that time to finally talk to MJ about things in private.

“So? How was it?” Peter asks anxiously, pressing the top of his racket to the ground.

“How was what?” She turns to him, making a face. Then it seems to click. “Oh my God, Peter, I _know_ you aren’t asking me if you’re a good kisser or not. What is this, middle school?”

“Not if I’m a good _kisser,_ just if my acting was convincing enough,” he argues, annoyed. “Like I’d care what you thought about my kissing anyway.”

“Yeah, right. But anyway, in that case it was...pretty good,” she shrugs, finally picking out the perfect racket. “I mean, you looked like you were going to throw up when I kissed you, but then again, I probably did too. Yours from nerves, mine from disgust.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself to me,” he retaliates, shrugging.

“It’s called good acting, genius,” she shakes her head, laughing. “That’s the same idiotic thinking that’s going to have you falling in love with me. You have to be able to decipher what’s acting and what’s not, because if you can’t do that, then...good luck.”

“Yeah, well I must be a _great_ actor to even _barely_ pull off that I’m, like, even semi-attracted to you, or that I want to kiss you.” he replies, crossing his arms. He would never admit it to her, but he’s being completely petty now since she sort of hurt his feelings. She’s always been good at that.

“I mean, that’s pretty much _exactly_ what I just said, but whatever,” she laughs, shaking her head and grabbing a ball. “Oh, and how about that sexy lingerie set, then? I saw your face heating up when I opened it—were you imagining me in that, Parker? Were you having dirty thoughts about me?”

“No, god, ew,” he backs away from her, pushing his hair back. “Not even a little. Like, if the world was about to end, and the choice was between letting it happen or saving it by seeing you wearing that, I’d let it end.”

“Ooh, now that’s just selfish, Peter,” she shakes her head, laughing at him. “And dramatic. Now hurry up, I’m ready to kick some ass.”

He watches her jog to the tennis court then, forcing himself to look away from her glowy, mile-long legs in that short skirt. It’s difficult.

He breathes out, grabbing a ball himself, and taking a second to compose himself again. Yes, it’s been a while since he’s kissed a girl, and he’s definitely never slept in the same bed with one, so his crazy teenage hormones are annoyingly picking up on that. And yes, he knows that MJ is objectively pretty, but as someone who actually knows her, every time she opens her stupid, annoying mouth he can’t believe he ever found her even semi-attractive at all. She’s _that_ annoying. So as long as he can grasp onto that thought, he should be fine. He just wishes his body would catch up to his mental hatred of her, that’s all.

After pulling himself together, he finally walks out and gets into position, not even making eye contact with MJ while he waits for Kyra and MJ’s mom to get ready.

“I gotta say, you’re really rockin’ that tennis outfit, babe,” MJ tells him from behind, and he sighs. She’s even starting to call him _babe_ when no one except them are there, _just_ to annoy him. “In, like, a hot dad way, though.”

“Thanks, MJ, I appreciate it,” he replies, still not turning to look at her. He’s stretching now, trying to focus on the game and _not_ the pointless banter he and MJ have. It’s unproductive, distracting, and only ends up making them hate each other more than they already do.

“Peter, where’s your headband?” Aunt Kyra asks from the other side of the court, beside MJ’s mother. John is on a bench outside of the court, watching them play as he sips on another scotch. At ten in the morning.

“Oh, it’s right here,” Peter laughs awkwardly, pulling it from his pocket. He had hoped to get out of the headband part, but to no avail, apparently. MJ snorts behind him, and he shoots her a look. She just laughs harder.

“I think we should switch places,” Peter breathes out, leaning over to catch his breath. They’ve already lost _two_ whole matches, which, of course, MJ blames on him. “It’ll probably help if you’re in the server position since you’re, like, ten feet tall.”

MJ looks like she wants to argue, but then she breathes in, remembering they’re supposed to be a couple, before she puts on a smile and nods. “Sure, honey.”

He smiles proudly, before moving to switch places with her. She swats him on the ass with her racket as she passes, turning back and winking at him. He rolls his eyes.

“Ready?” Her mom asks, before throwing the ball in the air and hitting it.

They actually get a few points this match, but still end up losing another _three_ games before they decide to take a break.

“What do you guys want from the snack bar? Me and Peter are gonna walk over there and grab some waters,” MJ stands up, grabbing Peter’s hand to get him up too.

“I’ll have a pineapple margarita,” her mom tells her, typing away on her phone.

“Ooh, I’ll have one of those too, please!” her aunt tells them, rubbing her hands together.

“Sounds so incredibly hydrating,” MJ says under her breath, grabbing Peter’s arm. “You guys know we’re underage, right?”

“Don’t worry about it—they’re getting paid _very_ well,” her mom winks at her, and MJ sighs.

“I act like I’m disappointed but that’s actually great to know,” MJ whispers, nudging his arm with hers. He just shakes his head and laughs.

“Can I get two pineapple margaritas and two waters? Oh, and two hotdogs—fully dressed. Add it to the Jones’ tab, please,” MJ walks up to the counter, leaning down and pressing her elbows against it.

“Hey, Peter, grab us some of these napk-” she turns to him, and he looks up at her, gulping.

“Huh?” He asks, breathing in as he looks her in the eyes.

“Were you seriously just checking out my ass, Peter?” She looks at him, smiling a little in disbelief as she turns all the way around to face him.

“What? No,” he laughs, shaking his head. Complete lie, even though he wishes it was true. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh, so you _do_ have sexual thoughts then,” she nods, rubbing her chin dramatically and smirking at him. “Good to know.”

“Yeah, I do, they just aren’t about you,” he retorts, walking up to her and reaching his arm behind her to get that stack of napkins she was asking about. She suddenly grabs his hand at the last second though, bringing it down, down, until it settles on the inside of her thigh.

“Oh yeah? Are you sure?” She asks, looking in his eyes. Her skin is warm and soft, as she slowly guides his hand up her skirt. She lowers her voice to a whisper then, asking, “What about now?”

“Oh my God, you’re insane!” he pulls away, taking in a sharp breath, and she bursts into laughter. Like having to actually lean _over_ she’s laughing so hard. “What if that guy had seen? And why the hell are you laughing?!”

“Because it’s so goddamn _funny_ to see you all squirmy and nervous,” she laughs, shaking her head. “And it’s so easy, too. Plus, if we’re lucky that guy’s into threesomes.”

“I wasn’t even...I wasn’t even squirmy _or_ nervous,” he replies, crossing his arms. Lie again. “You just surprised me. That’s it.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure Aunt Kyra purposely picked out a skirt one size too small for me just so it would distract you and we would lose to them,” she shrugs, still extremely amused. “I didn’t think it would work, but...maybe it actually did.”

“You’re _completely_ delusional, you know that?” he laughs incredulously, trying to cover his ass even though she’s almost entirely right.

“God, Peter, you _really_ have to get better at lying,” she shakes her head, before the snack bar worker notifies her that her food is done. She thanks him, gathers the hotdogs and water bottles, and leaves Peter to grab the margaritas as they make their way back.

“They really _didn’t_ card us,” Peter laughs, looking down at the drinks in his hand. “That’s kinda scary.”

“Oh yeah, Parker, because the worst things two nineteen year olds could do is drink alcohol,” MJ laughs at him, shaking her head.

“Shut up, you know what I meant,” he rolls his eyes, being careful not to spill them.

“Well I don’t know about you, but _I’m_ taking advantage of that soon,” MJ tells him, now stepping onto the tennis court.

They part ways then, as Peter goes on to the opposite side of the court to take her mom and aunt their drinks.

“God, I love vacation,” her aunt grabs the glass from him, taking a sip and sighing contently. “Thank you, Peter.”

He waves her off with a smile, before handing the other to MJ’s mom. But she doesn’t look up or acknowledge him when he does; she just stares at her phone and takes it.

He swallows thickly, nervously, before turning and heading back to MJ. He knows it’s not personal; her mom seems to hate everyone. But he’s unfortunately a people pleaser—especially for adults—and it bothers him _so bad_ when they don’t like him.

“So does she, like, hate me?” Peter whispers to MJ, sitting down next to her on their side of the court. “Has she said anything to you?”

“Why do you even care?” MJ laughs, looking at him as she shoves half of her hotdog in her mouth. Ketchup and mustard drip down her chin, as she wipes it off with the back of her hand and then onto the napkin. He makes a face.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, looking away and off at the water. “I mean, don’t we _want_ her to like me? Wasn’t that part of this whole thing?”

“Uh, not really,” she stares at him, shoving the rest in her mouth. Then, barely able to talk, she says, “I told you she wouldn’t approve. Having a boyfriend at all is enough to get her to not freak out on me the entire trip. If you thought this has been bad, you can’t even imagine the flack I’d get if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, but…” he trails off, letting out a breath.

“So,” She smiles, poking his arm teasingly. “You must really want my mom to like you, huh?”

“Not for _your_ benefit, obviously, I just sort of want to know _why_ she doesn’t like me, you know?” He asks, opening his hot dog now. “I mean, not like I care, but…”

“Aww, is little Peter sad a grown up doesn’t like him?” MJ says in a baby voice, sticking her bottom lip out in mock pity.

“Shut up,” he elbows her in annoyance, taking a bite of his hotdog.

“Seriously, though, do you really care that much?” she asks, nudging him with a smile. “Because she doesn’t like anyone, really. And it definitely didn’t help that you were about to fight with her yesterday about how _beautiful_ I am when she was claiming otherwise.”

“Just because I want her to like me doesn’t mean I’m just gonna sit back and let her say that god awful shit to you,” he shrugs, taking another bite. “I don’t know, maybe it’s not even worth her liking me.”

He sits there, finishing off the rest of his hotdog. After a few seconds of MJ’s silence, he turns to her and sees she’s staring.

“Why are you looking at me?” he asks, tossing a napkin at her.

“I’m not,” she tosses one back, snapping out of her reverie. “You just look extra stupid today, is all.”

“Ready for another game, lovebirds?!” her aunt yells across the court then, standing up with her racket in hand. She has already downed her pineapple margarita, and she’s ready to go.

“Uh...sure,” Peter yells back, wiping the sweat from his forehead and gulping down half of his water bottle, before standing up.

“Trash?” MJ holds her hand out, grasping her own hot dog wrapper and napkins.

“Yeah, thanks,” he hands his to her, walking over to grab their rackets as she throws away their garbage.

They end up playing two more matches; finally winning one, and then losing the other. But after that her aunt is too drunk and they’re too exhausted to keep going, and after MJ’s mom tells her that dinner is at seven tonight instead of eight, they finally head back to their room.

“God, I feel disgusting,” Peter groans, laying down on the floor of their bungalow and finally pulling off that ridiculous headband.

“That’s exactly why _I’m_ going swimming,” MJ tells him, shedding her tennis shoes and grabbing her bathing suit.

“That’s an amazing idea,” Peter sighs even at the _thought_ of jumping in the cool water, as he grabs his swimming trunks.

“I’m getting changed in the bathroom—you can wait or get changed outside; I don’t care either way,” she tells him, shutting the door without another word.

He just sighs, waits an anxious beat, before walking outside to their porch-thing, waits another anxious beat, before stripping down and pulling his trunks on. He’s terrified that she’s going to “pull an MJ” and walk out when he’s completely naked, but thankfully she doesn’t. He would never talk to her again if she did, so it’s probably best she didn’t.

So he walks back inside then, and MJ is in there smearing sunscreen on her legs, arms, and stomach.

“Hey, Parker, can you put some of this on my back? I really should work out more or something because I seriously can’t reach,” she groans, looking like she’s about to break a limb before he sighs and walks over.

“Fine,” he replies, squirting some into his hands, and then spreading it across her back. He rubs it on the back of her neck then, her shoulders, then her lower back, just where it dips. He tries not to think too hard about what he’s doing.

“Ooh, trying to cop a feel there, Parker?” She asks in a seductive whisper, turning her head as he pushes his finger under the swimsuit strap that’s on her back, spreading the sunscreen there too.

“You’ll be thanking me when you don’t have tan lines on your back,” he shrugs, now putting it on himself; his chest, legs, arms, face, and back (where he can reach, he doesn’t want her touching him.)

“I’m sure I will,” she laughs under her breath, standing in the doorway watching him. “You know it really gets me going when you’re spreading all of that white, creamy sunscreen all over your body.”

“Gross, MJ,” he groans, rubbing it into his skin. “That’s disgusting.”

“Why?” She asks, stepping forward. “I was just talking about how it makes you all glowy. What did _you_ think I meant?”

“Nothing, never mind,” he shakes his head, trying to ignore her. He tries to push past her, but she’s blocking the door out.

“Am I mistaken or did you think I was referring to the resemblance between that and a certain bodily fluid?” She asks, smiling as she teases him.

“Oh my God, MJ, stop,” he makes another attempt at getting through, but she blocks it again. “Seriously?”

“Hey, _I’m_ not the one who thought I was saying rubbing semen all over your body is sexy,” she shrugs, and he flushes a deep red and finally pushes past her successfully.

“I can’t believe you _actually_ just said that,” he shakes his head, trying to hide his embarrassed face from her so she doesn’t have _another_ reason to tease him.

“Aww, you’re blushing,” she laughs, following him down the steps.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, now just plain pissed off. “Screw you.”

“I bet you wish you could,” she sighs smugly, and he takes a deep breath, before diving in the water.

“Peter, you _know_ I’m just joking, you baby,” she laughs, standing at the dock and watching him. “Are you seriously mad?”

“Can you just leave me alone for once?” He sighs, laying on his back and floating on the water.

“Sex is a natural part of life, Peter, I’m just getting you used to it, is all,” she splashes him, but he just keeps his cool and doesn’t retaliate. That’s exactly what she wants, and he refuses to give it to her. “You should probably be thanking me, really.”

“I’m ignoring you if you hadn’t noticed,” he tells her, trying to relax.

“What are you, like five?” she laughs, splashing him again, trying to get a rise out of him.

“Oh yeah, coming from the girl who won’t leave me alone for _two_ seconds and mocks everything I do,” he rolls his eyes, and then holds his breath before going underwater. He’s sure she says something, but he thankfully doesn’t hear it.

They swim separately for twenty minutes, before Peter gets out, toweling himself off.

“And where are you going?” MJ asks, swimming to the dock and looking up at him.

“To get a pool floaty from the stack by the bar,” he replies, walking up the steps.

“Oh cool, I’ll go with you,” she tells him, pulling herself out of the water. “I’d kill for a smoothie right now.”

“Do you have _any_ concept of personal time?” He groans, thinking he finally had five minutes to himself.

“God, Peter, you’ll have plenty of time to masturbate in the shower later, don’t worry,” she puts her hands up in defense, and he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Besides, it’s not like I want to spend time with _you_ anyway; I just want to see that hot snack bar worker again.”

“What?” he stops in the middle of their bungalow, looking at her. She walks a few more steps before realizing, then she stops herself.

“What do you mean what?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

“You think the snack bar worker is...hot? Threesome guy?” He asks, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah, for a sec I forgot that the whole time I was ordering earlier you were checking me out,” she laughs, crossing her own arms now. “And yeah, he is hot. Jealous?”

“Pshht, God, no, I’m not jealous,” he waves her off, rolling his eyes. “I just feel bad for him, is all.”

“Convincing,” she laughs, shaking her head. He sighs and follows her along the dock, trying to remember that guy at the snack bars face. But MJ’s right; his mind was elsewhere, embarrassingly enough. He’d never admit that to her, though.

She’s in a different swimsuit now than she was yesterday; this is a black one piece, and he _forces_ himself not to look at her. He always thought he wasn’t _that_ guy, and he doesn’t plan on starting now.

“Can I get a medium strawberry-banana smoothie, please?” MJ leans against the counter, smiling and tilting her head at the snack bar boy. Peter watches him carefully; seeing how he reacts to her, seeing how he talks to her, seeing how he looks at her. He can’t say he’s unattractive; he’s tall, has dimples, has shoulder-length wavy hair. He’s definitely good-looking like MJ said.

Peter doesn’t like him.

“Back so soon, huh?” He smiles at MJ, and Peter rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as he tucks his long, perfect hair behind his pierced ear. Figures he has an ear piercing.

“I figured if you had to work here all day in this heat _just_ for my family, I guess I could keep you company,” she shrugs, and Peter swallows thickly.

“Hey, can I get a smoothie too, please? Medium strawberry?” Peter walks up beside MJ, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, dude, of course,” they guy looks at him, seeming startled. “I didn’t even see you there, my bad.”

“Yeah, it’s...fine,” Peter nods, his arms still crossed.

“This is my _friend_ Peter,” MJ emphasizes the word, punching him “playfully” in the shoulder. “He just wanted to get a float.”

“Ahh, nice to meet you,” the guy smiles, his dimples showing, as he extends his hand for a shake. Peter shakes it back reluctantly, feeling bad for hating him so much without even knowing him. But there’s just _something_ about him…

“You too,” Peter forces a smile, nodding.

“I’ll get to those smoothies then! And you can just grab any of the floats you want from over there on the side of the building,” the guy smiles, showing off perfect teeth, before going to the back of his small hut to make the smoothies.

“Thanks,” Peter replies unenthusiastically, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Seriously, Parker? What the hell was that?” MJ nudges him in annoyance, whispering when the guy walks away.

“What?” Peter asks, playing dumb.

“Just go get your stupid floaty thing,” she shakes her head, turning away from him in annoyance.

Her and snack bar guy flirt a little more after that while Peter awkwardly stands on the sidelines, before they _finally_ end up going back to the bungalow.

“What’s wrong with you, Peter?” MJ asks finally, after walking all the way back in silence. “You know we aren’t _actually_ dating, right?”

“I’m not, like, jealous or anything, obviously, but I just think there’s something up with that dude, is all,” he shrugs, holding the float in one hand and his amazing smoothie in the other.

“Well I guess it’s good that it’s none of your business then,” she shrugs carelessly, and he gulps.

“Yeah,” he nods, walking into their room, “I guess so.”

They swim for a few more hours then, not talking very much as he lays on his float. After a while he switches around and turns on his front, sighing as he lets his hands sit in the cool, refreshing water as he relaxes.

“I’m going in,” MJ announces, pulling herself onto the dock.

“Okay, I’m coming too,” he nods, sitting up and yawning. “This sun is making me sleepy.”

“Well you better wake up—dinner’s at seven tonight, which is…” she puts her hand over her eyes to shield herself from the sun, as she unlocks her phone to check the time. “In an hour.”

“I’m actually starving, so that sounds great,” he laughs, rubbing his stomach as they walk inside.

“Yeah, hopefully my mom won’t be such a-” she starts, but then as she’s setting her phone down on the counter, she sees Peter. “Oh my _God,_ Peter, you’re sunburnt.”

“What? I am?” he asks, going to the bathroom to check in the mirror. And then, catching a glimpse of himself, he groans. “Oh _shit.”_

“Did you even put any more sunscreen on that pale, ivory skin of yours?” she laughs, shaking her head. _Her_ skin has a bronzy-golden glow, while _his_ looks like this.

“I didn’t even think about it,” he sighs, walking back into the room. It’s not _awful_ sunburn by any means, but he knows it’s gonna hurt.

“You should be glad I brought some aftersun aloe lotion,” she shakes her head, amused by his pain. “Come over here.”

So he does.

“Does that stuff actually help?” He asks, sitting down on the bed next to her.

“It has aftersun in the name; it’s _specifically made_ for this purpose,” she sighs, shaking her head at him as she pulls it from her bag. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he tells her, pumping some into his hand and smearing it onto his arms. “Ahhh that feels good.”

“Told you it would help,” she shrugs, leaning back and smiling.

“My skin feels like it’s on fire,” he groans, slowly rubbing it on his legs now, then chest, then he reaches for his back but...he can’t reach. And it’s _especially_ burnt since he missed a whole section of it while putting on sunscreen because he refused to let MJ help him. But now he really, really regrets it and he’s in so much pain trying to even _reach_ for it. “God, it hurts!”

“Okay, okay, calm down I’ll help you get your back,” she sighs, grabbing the bottle from him and then smearing it over his back.

“God,” he sighs, feeling the cold sensation take over the burning-in-hell-fire one. “That feels amazing.”

“Don’t get all horny on me right now, Peter, I’m just doing you a favor,” she tells him, her hands spreading over his shoulder blades, his spine, his lower back.

“I’m not getting...horny,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “That lotion is just a huge relief. Like a foot rub or something.”

“Okay, that argument is stupid because foot rubs are _totally_ turn-on worthy,” MJ tells him, her soft fingers pressing into his skin. He closes his eyes, pushing his shoulders back, feeling her hands on his skin. “All done.”

He opens his eyes, swallowing thickly and breathing in deeply. God, he really _does_ need to do something about all of this built up tension in his system; it’s making him go insane enough that _MJ_ is making him feel things while she’s rubbing aftersun lotion on him.

He’s going completely crazy.

“Thanks,” he stands up, trying to compose himself. He feels weird after that.

“You’re welcome,” she tilts her head, looking at him. She does that narrowing-of-her-eyes thing where he feels like she’s reading him completely and knows exactly what he’s thinking. But instead of saying something about it, she just says, “So as much as I know you want to see me naked, you’re going to have to scram so I can take a shower, Parker.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, I’ll just go out,” he nods, discreetly swallowing thickly _again._ “I’ll be outside.”

“Not in any more sun, though, I hope,” she smiles, already beginning to unclasp the back of her swimsuit and pulling the towel from the shower door.

“Of course,” he laughs awkwardly, moving to the door. “I’ll...be out here.”

“Congrats,” she tells him, not even giving a second glance as she starts stripping down. He shuts the door behind him quickly.

She gets finished after around twenty minutes, letting him take his turn in the shower to get ready. He has to take a kinda-cold shower to not hurt his sunburn, which sucks, but it just makes him get done quicker, anyway.

Right as he’s about to be done, he hears a loud knock on the door. Except it’s in the front, not the back.

“Uh,” he turns the water off, gulping. “Who is it?!”

“Michelle open up this door!” her mom's voice echoes through the room, and Peter gulps as he jumps out and throws a towel around his waist _right_ as MJ walks in through the back. Peter feels like he’s about to have a heart attack.

“Fine, mom, I’m coming!” MJ groans, unlocking the door and swinging it open. “What?”

“You two are riding with me,” her mom walks in, looking around their bungalow now in disapproval. As always. Then she sees Peter, who is soaking wet and breathing heavily because it all happened so fast.

“Um…” he gulps, holding onto his towel for dear life. “Hi, Miss Jones.”

“Why don’t you put on some clothes, Peter,” her mom sighs, now turning to MJ.

“Yeah, sorry,” he scrambles to grab his clothes, then goes in the bathroom and shuts the door.

As soon as he starts putting his clothes on, he hears them arguing in the room.

“So are you going to get ready? It’s almost time to meet your aunt at the restaurant.” Her mom tells her, annoyed.

“I am ready,” MJ replies, trying to keep her voice low. Peter isn’t _meaning_ to eavesdrop, but he can’t help it. This door does nothing to block sound. “I fixed my hair, and I’m wearing one of the dresses you got me.”

“And didn’t you forget one thing? You know it’s called makeup for a reason, right? To make up for all of your flaws,” her mom tells her, talking to her like she’s stupid. “Really, Michelle, it isn’t that hard to grasp.”

“Mom,” MJ sighs, and Peter gulps. Her mom treats her so badly that it makes him sick. “I don’t even own makeup. I’m trying so hard here. So hard to keep the peace, and not to fight.”

“Yeah, well you aren’t trying hard enough then,” her mom tells her, and then he hears them sit on the bed where she’s most likely doing her makeup.

Peter backs away from the door then, finally getting dressed and doing his best to fix his hair the way MJ did yesterday. Then, after building up courage, he walks out.

They’re sitting on the bed, and her mom is putting mascara on MJ. They both turn and look at him when he walks in, and he smiles awkwardly.

“Tuck your shirt in,” her mom orders Peter, before turning back to MJ and continuing her task.

“Oh yeah, of course, sorry,” Peter nods, tucking it in hastily.

“Okay then, I think we’re ready,” her mom sticks the mascara back in her bag, stands up, and walks out.

Peter and MJ look at each other, before following behind her.

“You okay?” Peter whispers to her, lightly nudging her while they walk down the dock.

“I’m fine,” MJ nods, looking down at the ground as she walks. She looks upset, but Peter has absolutely no idea how to comfort her, so he just chews the inside of his cheek and keeps walking.

“Let’s go or we’re gonna be late,” Her mom rushes them, sighing as they climb into the car.

They sit in silence the entire way there, and Peter stares out the window and twirls a finger around a loose thread in his pants anxiously.

Finally they get there—a different restaurant than last night—and Peter breathes in as they walk through the luau-themed restaurant. The servers have on leis and hula skirts, and there are tiki torches and totem decorations everywhere. It doesn’t exactly seem like Miss Jones’ type of restaurant, but he doubts she picked it. That’ll make it _that_ much more fun.

They meet MJ’s aunt at a table, but there’s no sign of her fiancé as they all order drinks. Her mom and aunt’s are alcoholic beverages, of course, while Peter and MJ order sodas.

“Where’s John?” Peter asks curiously, trying to help the horrific atmosphere at the table. MJ just stares at her menu.

“He wasn’t feeling too well tonight, Peter, thank you for asking,” she replies, smiling. Peter nods, smiling too before looking down at his own menu.

“This place is so goddamn tacky,” her mom says under her breath, looking around. Peter actually loves it, but he’s not surprised she would say that.

“It’s part of their culture, mom,” MJ replies boredly, scanning her menu.

Peter, trying to change the conversation before there’s a fight, asks, “so what’s everyone ordering?”

But her mom ignores him, now annoyed with MJ for her comment. “Well it’s classless to bring it into a restaurant.”

“Well then don’t eat here.” MJ looks up and closes her menu, both of them eyeing each other. Peter gulps and looks back down at his menu, trying desperately not to make eye contact with either of them.

Her mom opens her mouth to reply again, but the waitress walks up right as she’s about to speak. Peter breathes out a sigh of relief.

They all finally order their food, and then sit in silence for the next twenty minutes. He’s about to pull his phone out for a distraction, but even when he _reaches_ to grab it from his pocket, MJ’s mom gives him a look like “don’t you dare.” So he doesn’t.

“How long does it take to cook some salmon?” Her mom complains, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“It’s a full restaurant mom; we’re not their top priority,” MJ looks up, and Peter’s heart starts racing again. He keeps his eyes glued to stage ahead of them, where a couple are drunkenly singing karaoke to the pina colada song. “You can wait twenty minutes.”

“Excuse me?” Her mom laughs, setting her glass down. This is going to be bad.

“I said you can wait twenty goddamn minutes for them to make your food,” MJ looks her in the eyes, and Peter can tell she’s had enough. He’s actually proud of her; he’s not sure he would have held himself together this long if he had been in her position. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because we all know you’ll find something to bitch about regardless of how long it takes.”

“Where do you get off thinking you’re better than me? Really, Michelle, you and your...NYU boyfriend. It’s embarrassing.” Her mom laughs, practically mocking MJ now.

“Oh, so Peter isn’t good enough for you now too then, huh?” MJ grits her teeth, clenching her fists on the table. “Actually, I don’t want to hear the answer to that. I’m gonna go for a walk—no one follow me.”

“MJ,” Peter looks at her, searching her face to see if she’s okay. But she’s angry and upset, and looks like she’s on the verge of tears which he’s never seen before.

“Do you know how rude it is to leave before you’ve even got your food, Michelle?” Her mom is angry now, looking at her like she’s doing the most disrespectful thing she’s ever seen.

“Do you know how rude it is to be condescending and god awful to every single person you come in contact with?” MJ retorts, walking away. Then as a second thought, she walks back and says, “Oh, I forgot one thing.”

And then she grabs Peter’s shirt, and kisses him. She kisses him so hard, so urgently, that she pulls him up to his feet to kiss him deeper. And as she’s running her fingers through his hair and pulling him against her, he realizes he has never, ever been kissed like this.

And then before he even realizes it, they’re parted and she’s walking away alone, and he can’t breathe and he’s completely disoriented.

“I think I’m gonna…” he starts, dumbly pushing his thumb over his shoulder to point at MJ, gulping.

“Sit down, Peter,” her mom demands, and he gulps and follows her orders. “And fix your hair—you look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“O-Okay,” he nods, reaching up with shaky hands and fixing it as best as he can. “Can I go-”

“No, you’re going to stay right here and finish your dinner like Michelle _should_ have done,” her mom tells him, not even seeming fazed by their fight.

Peter’s heart is still racing and he’s still dizzy and shocked from what just happened. And to tell the truth, he doesn’t even know _why_ he’s obeying her. Yeah, she’s scary, but he also despises her and hates how he treats MJ. But it isn’t like he should have followed MJ anyway—she specifically said not to—but he still feels wrong sitting here with her mom and not doing _anything._

“Don’t worry, Peter, this always happens,” Aunt Kyra assures him, sipping from the small straw in her fruity drink. “It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“I know, but MJ…” he gulps, sighing.

“Don’t call her that,” her mom tells him in annoyance, clenching her jaw. “That’s a sad and messy excuse for a nickname, and I hate it.”

Peter hesitates for a moment, still shocked she can even say the things that she does. But when he does come out of his initial shock, he laughs a little in bitterness, and says, “You know what? No. She asked me to call her that, and I actually respect her and respect her wishes, too. So I’m going to _keep_ calling her MJ, and you’ll just have to get used to it.”

There’s a momentary silence after that, both her mom and aunt shocked by his words.

“I _knew_ I liked you for a reason!” Her aunt laughs, sighing contently as she leans back in her seat. Peter sighs in relief, but her mom still looks as pissed as ever.

“God, how did she manage to find one just like her,” her mom mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

The waitress comes with the food then, and Peter thanks _god_ for that. He’s pretty sure this trip is going to give him a heart attack.

He eats fast—but not _too_ fast—so he can go find MJ and make sure she’s okay. He knows she wanted to be alone, but she’s been alone long enough by now to hopefully not be mad at him for coming to check on her.

So he finally finishes his food, excuses himself, and goes to find her. He leaves the same way she did, searching everywhere on the way. But there’s no sign of her. So he finally gets back to their section of the island, and goes to their room. But she’s not there either. He checks out on their porch, in the water behind their bungalow, out by the tennis courts and snack bar, but he _still_ can’t find her. He starts to get really worried now, so he gets his phone out to call her. He calls once, twice, three times, and even texts, but still no answer. He uses his flashlight to search down the beach, feeling frantic.

“I knew you’d come find me,” she laughs, and he turns to where the voice was coming from. She’s on the edge of the water, her shoes off and her feet in the sand to let the water wash over them. And there’s two empty glasses beside her.

“Jesus, MJ, you freaking scared me,” he pushes his hair back, sighing. “You could have answered your phone, you know that?”

“Chill out, I left it in our room,” she sighs, patting the sand beside her for him to sit. He looks at her, then to the glasses laying on their sides next to her, their little colorful umbrellas now on the sand.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, scanning her face.

“Yeah,” she laughs, reaching her hands up as the water surges forward and slinks across her fingers, her palms. “Courtesy of the cute, paid-off-to-let-underage-kids-drink snack bar guy.”

“I’m...sorry about what happened,” he breathes out, not exactly sure how to approach it with her—someone who never talks about their feelings.

“I shouldn’t have let her get to me,” she laughs bitterly, tracing her long, slender fingers across the sand. “I’ve been trying for _weeks_ before this trip to prepare myself—to...to imagine every awful thing she could say to me so I could get through the real thing. But she’s so _mean_ and _awful,_ and I couldn’t take it anymore, On day two.”

“Nobody in their right mind could blame you for that,” he sighs, looking ahead at the water. “You kept your cool for _so_ long, MJ, no one else I know could have gone that long without breaking down. Everything you did was completely justified—I probably would have said a lot worse. And I wanted to leave that freaking nightmare of a table, but she wouldn’t let me. And then we sort of got into a fight, and-”

“Wait, you got into a fight? Over what?” MJ turns to him, curious.

“I was worried about you, you know? So I was asking if you’d be okay, and I said your name—well, MJ—in the sentence, and she looked at me like she was about to _kill_ me and said “don’t call her that.”” he tells her, still sort of confused about it. “And I told her that I respected your wish for me to call you that, so she would just have to get used to it.”

“Jesus, Peter,” she laughs, lightly punching his arm. “I’m surprised she didn’t kill you right there.”

“I sort of thought she might, but I was prepared to run if I had to,” he laughs too, and she hums quietly under her breath.

“The reason I wanted everyone to call me that in the first place is...is because of her. She says Michelle in this evil, mean voice, and that’s all I can think of when I hear it. She ruined my own name for me.” she breathes out, and he nods, wondering if she would have even told him this without the alcohol. Probably not.

“I’m so sorry, MJ,” he tells her quietly, pressing his hand to the sand. “I don’t really know what to say, or what to do, but...I just want you to know that I’m here for you and everything.”

“Lame,” she laughs, ruining one of the only conversations they’ve had this entire trip that wasn’t based around them hating each other. “But I know, Parker. Thanks. And thanks for sticking up for me and everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he answers, and she looks over at him. She scans his face then, before settling on his lips. Then the sides of her mouth quirk up into a smile.

“So how about that kiss, huh? God, I knew that would piss her off; to make it as hot and inappropriate as I could. I thought she might kill me.” she laughs, fumbling for her glass and then frowning when she realizes it’s empty.

“Yeah, she was pissed,” he laughs with her, thinking about the kiss himself now. “She hardly said a word during dinner.”

“I hope the image is burned into her brain,” MJ laughs, leaning back to lay on the sand. “Two lowly NYU students in love, preparing to live a mediocre life just like the mediocre school they’re going to.”

“Are you going to be okay the rest of this trip?” Peter asks, concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” MJ nods, the smile falling from her face. “But I think your job on this trip has shifted. Instead of trying to impress her and make her _so glad Michelle finally got a boyfriend,_ our job is now to disgust her. Not like it’ll be hard, but still. It’s _on_ now.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” he gulps, nervously sinking his fingers into the sand.

“I really don’t give a fuck anymore,” she laughs, reaches up slightly, then splashes him with water.

“God, you _have_ to stop doing that,” he laughs with her, then splashes her too.

“Let’s go back—I’m getting tired,” MJ tells him when their laughter finally dies down a few minutes later.

“Yeah, that would probably be best,” he agrees, standing up and reaching his hand out to help her, too.

“Oh shit,” she stands up, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Is everything spinning to you?”

“Come on,” he sighs, grabbing both of her empty glasses in one hand and using his other arm to wrap tightly around her waist to hold her up.

“God, you’re strong,” she laughs, her hand pressing against his arm that’s around her. Then she turns to look at him, her face right in his, as she pokes his stomach and says, “All those muscles are finally paying off, Parker.”

“What do you mean, “all those muscles”?” he laughs, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks between her and the sand, pulling her forward.

“You know, you’re like buff and everything,” she laughs sleepily, as they finally make it to the dock. He prays her mom and aunt haven’t made it back yet as they pass their bungalows. “Not like _buff_ buff, but you know what I mean. All muscly and everything.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” he shakes his head with a small laugh, finally opening the door to their bungalow. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Ah, bed,” she walks in, and as soon as he closes the door, she’s already face-planted against the bed, her arms spread across it.

“MJ,” he groans, going to get her back up. “You need to get changed and brush your teeth before you sleep. And drink a hell of a lot of water, too.”

“God, I just want to sleep,” she moans sadly, as he pulls her from the bed and all but drags her to the bathroom.

“Here,” Peter tells her as he grabs her waist, lifts, and sets her down on the counter there. Then he grabs her toothbrush, puts toothpaste on it, wets it, then hands it to her. “You need to brush your teeth.”

“God,” she whines, taking it from him. She sticks it in her mouth, but halfway through she _actually_ falls asleep, almost falling over in the process.

“Oh my God!” Peter grabs her before she can fall, snatching the toothbrush from her, and stepping forward until he’s against the counter himself. “You’re really going to make me brush your teeth for you?”

“Yeah, Peter, that was my evil plan all along,” she laughs, her eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

“Just make this easy for me please, okay?” he stands in front of her, sighing as he cups the back of her head with one hand, and grips the toothbrush in the other. “You owe me one for this. Big time.”

“Yeah? Well I think you just wanted to be between my legs,” she smirks at him, looking down. And yeah, they’re close, and yeah, her legs are separated as they hang off the counter, and yeah, he’s between them. But he hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Just be quiet and open your mouth,” he groans, already tired of this.

“Ooh, dirty,” she bites her lip, laughing, and he just shakes his head. “Okay, okay, I’m opening.”

“Finally,” he laughs, reaching up and brushing her teeth. He finally gets done, rinsing off her toothbrush, before holding her hair back so she can spit the toothpaste out into the sink. “Okay, makeup’s next. Is there, like, makeup remover wipes in here somewhere?” he asks, searching around the counter. And then he finally finds a pack under the sink, saying, “Aha!”

“God, just let me sleep, Peter,” she whines, swaying back and forth sleepily.

“Can’t. I’ve read that leaving makeup on overnight is bad for your skin,” he tells her, reaching up and wiping it from her eyes, her skin.

“Why are you taking it off? Aren’t I _so_ much more beautiful this way?” MJ laughs as she mocks her mom, but he can hear the pain behind it and it makes him cringe.

“You’re always beautiful, MJ,” Peter shakes his head, continuing to wipe the towelette across her forehead, then cheek. “Your mom just…I don’t know what’s up with her, but she’s wrong. About all of it.”

“Aww, you think I’m beautiful?” she smiles, tilting her head as he swipes it across her lips. They look at each other for a moment, in each other’s eyes, before he clears his throat and proceeds.

“You know I do,” he laughs awkwardly, shrugging. “It’s...it’s whatever. And I’m done now, so I’m going to grab you some pajamas and let you piss all of that alcohol out before you come to bed.”

“So much work,” she whines, as he picks her up and sets her back down on her feet.

“Stay right there. And stay awake,” he laughs, rushing to the room, grabbing her some pajamas and socks, and then coming back. She’s leaning against the wall, yawning, on the verge of sleep again.

“Here. Just...don’t hurt yourself, okay? I’ll be right outside the door if you need me,” he tells her, handing over her clothes, before walking out. He taps his foot anxiously while he waits, hearing her knock into a few things several times, then the toilet flushes, and then she fumbles for the door knob.

“You okay?” he laughs a little, searching her to make sure.

“Barely,” she moans, and he helps her over to her side of the bed, and pulls the blanket up and over her.

“Here, drink some of this,” he holds her head up with one hand, and the water bottle in the other as she drinks from it. “Okay, that should be good.”

“Finally,” she sighs, falling into the pillow and instantly shutting her eyes.

He laughs and goes to the other side of the bed, grabbing some shorts and a t-shirt and bringing it to the bathroom. He changes into shorts, brushes his teeth, and then uses the bathroom before tip-toeing back to bed. He sits down on it, pulling his shirt off again as he rubs more of the aftersun lotion over his reddened skin. It seems better than earlier, but he knows this helps a lot, so he considers this the best option.

“You can leave your shirt off tonight,” she whispers, her eyes barely open as she looks at him. He jumps a little, sure she was asleep by now, as he turns to look at her. She’s smiling a little, watching him. “I know I gave you a hard time last night about it, but that shirts gonna hurt the hell out of your burnt skin if you sleep on it. So I guess it’s okay for tonight.”

“Thanks for your permission,” he laughs, throwing the shirt to his suitcase, and then getting up to shut the light off. He flips it off, yawning as he falls into bed, pulling the blanket to his waist. “Night.”

“Goodnight, Peter,” she hums, her eyes flickering closed peacefully.

His hot skin feels cool and relieved against these sheets, and he sighs in complete contentedness being here right now. He hears MJ shift, getting a little bit closer, before her hand finds his. Her fingers slip around his wrist easily, just keeping them there, only wanting a small amount of contact.

He opens his eyes, seeing if hers are open too to search for his reaction, but they’re not. She just lays there, letting out a small breath, her hand loosely clasping his wrist.

From most people’s perspective this is something simple, something small, but it isn’t to him. It’s rare for her to let someone in this way and see her vulnerable, hurt, and needing someone there—even if it’s just a comforting touch while she sleeps. Drunk or not, he knows this is big, and she doesn’t have to use words to express that.


	4. Hike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so sorry for not updating! I've had a lot of things going on, and honestly this story was at the back of my mind. But I did it finally! I'm not quitting this story, but I doubt it's going to be weekly from here on out. I'll update it as soon as I can, though! 
> 
> Thank you all for the support—I read all of your reviews and it's what keeps me wanting to write, so thank you!

“You guys up for another round of tennis?” A yell comes through the door, waking both Peter _and_ MJ. MJ sits up quickly, and then groans and puts a hand to her head in pain.

“My head is throbbing,” she whines, falling back down against the pillow.

“You weren’t answering your cell, Michelle, so I figured I’d stop by. I hope you’re dressed—I’m about to come in!”

“What? Peter, you didn’t lock the door last night?” MJ whispers quickly, nudging him.

“I’m sorry, I was a little preoccupied taking care of _you_ being drunk,” he whispers back, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Come here, we’re supposed to be a couple,” she grumbles, pulling him closer, laying her head on his chest and putting her hand on his arm. She also throws a leg over his, pressing her entire body against him. He has to take in a deep breath.

“Good morning! Sorry to wake you again, but I’m sure you’d rather me than your mother, yeah?” Her aunt laughs and walks inside, before eyeing them and their positions and saying, “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything!”

“Actually, you _just_ missed it,” Michelle laughs, sitting up slightly to press her lips softly against Peter’s jaw. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear us—this guy’s a screamer.”

“No...I’m not,” he laughs in embarrassment, uncomfortably shifting. “She’s just trying to embarrass me.”

“And either it’s working, or that sunburn got your face worse than I thought,” her aunt laughs, and he groans and covers his face in embarrassment. He hates when people point out that he’s blushing.

“Awww, I think it’s cute, babe,” MJ pulls his hands from his face, before she sits up, kissing his lips.

He’s a little shocked then, not expecting that _at all,_ but he quickly composes himself when he remembers her aunt watching them.

“How cute,” her aunt tilts her head, smiling at them. “Listen, I hope we can get passed the…disagreement from last night and enjoy this trip. I think we should go play tennis with your mother.”

“Then my _mother_ should have come and asked us,” MJ shrugs, her thumb absentmindedly running across Peter’s ribcage. “Me and Peter were actually thinking about going on a hike today.”

“Michelle-” her aunt sighs, seeming upset about it.

“I’m sorry, aunt Kyra, I just...can’t take it. She’s awful to me, awful to Peter, and for _one_ day of this vacation I’d love some time without that,” she tells her calmly, and Peter gulps.

“I understand,” her aunt nods, breathing out. “She’s angry at you both, anyway. I’ll try and calm her down before your cousins get here tonight.”

“Thanks, Kyra,” MJ nods, her hand pressed flat against Peter’s chest. He breathes in deeply, his mind clouded by hormones, among other things. “Can you tell mom? I’d rather not have to.”

“Of course,” her aunt nods, before picking up their dirty tennis outfits from the floor. “I’ll wash these so we can play tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” MJ nods, smiling slightly. “Sounds great.”

“Have fun today! And don’t forget your cousins are getting in tonight!” her aunt waves over her shoulder, before closing the door behind her. As soon as Peter figures the coast is clear, he sits up slightly, making MJ’s hand slide down his abs.

“A hike? With the hangover you have?” Peter laughs, looking down at her.

“We’ll figure something out,” she groans and presses her finger to her temple, pulling her leg back over from where it’s straddling him. He prays, prays, _prays_ she didn’t feel-

“Oh my God, Peter,” MJ sits up, looks down, then looks back up at him in shock. “Do you...have a boner right now?”

“What?!” Peter laughs, his face flushing as he tries to gather the blankets around himself as a shield. “No.”

“Then what was that hard thing in the general area of your crotch that was pressing against my hip?” She asks, seeming amused as she stares at him.

“That was...that was just my arm,” he gulps, once again trying to lie his way out of a humiliating situation.

“That’s optimistic,” she scoffs and crosses her arms, and they sit there for a second in an awkward silence. Then, before he even realizes what’s happening, she’s trying to lift the blanket to see.

“What are you doing?” He exclaims, hardly able to breathe as he rolls, rolls more, then falls off the bed. He stands up then, breathing heavily and covering himself with the blanket he pulled down with him.

“I just want visual _proof_ that I gave you a hard-on,” she laughs, reaching over to now play tug of war with the blanket.

“I just…had a good dream. That’s it. I had it before we even, like, laid down together.” he explains, gulping and sweating and unsure of what to say from there.

“Must have been some dream,” she scoffs with a laugh, biting her lip as she looks up at him. “Who was it about?”

“What? No one,” he laughs and gulps, unable to think of something quick enough.

“Oh okay, so it was a dream about you, you know, pleasuring yourself?” she asks, tilting her head in pretend curiosity. She’s making this as slow and painful and humiliating as possible, when he already _knows_ that she knows it’s because of her laying all over him in _that_ way. But he’s stubborn and so is she, and he refuses to let her get the satisfaction of knowing it was because of her.  

“No, it was…” he tries to think of something quick, but he goes _completely_ blank and just sits there in silence, looking like a dumbass.

“Just say I gave you a boner, Peter,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Seriously. I mean, I _was_ laying on you, and I _was_ kissing you, and I _am_ irresistible, so it’s completely understandable.”

“You did _not_ give me a...a boner, okay?” he gulps and forces out a “careless” laugh, clutching the blanket like his life depends on it.

“Oh, I didn’t?” she climbs off the bed, and he gulps as she comes closer. His bare feet touch the cool floor as he backs up further and further, until his back presses against the shower door. She smiles deviously as she walks towards him, the same smile she had at the snack bar when she guided his hand up her skirt. He can hardly breathe and his heart is racing as she presses her hands beside him against the glass of the shower.

“No, you didn’t,” he forces himself to stay composed, to stay confident, because if she sees him falter even a _little,_ that’s when she attacks.

“Really? Not even when I rubbed my hand against your chest like this?” she whispers and tilts her head, pressing her hand to the middle of his chest, then moving up to run her fingers across his collarbone, then his shoulder. He lets out a sigh as chill bumps form on his skin, trying to pull himself together, trying not to give in to her touch.

“I think you just _wish_ you had given me a boner, and it’s bothering you that it _wasn’t_ you,” he breathes out heavily, slipping under her arms, away from her seductive, mesmerizing words.

“I could give you a boner in five _seconds_ if I tried to, Peter,” she laughs, crossing her arms. “It’s the fact that I _wasn’t_ even trying that fascinates me.”

“You’re just lucky you don’t have a way of showing it,” he breathes out in exasperation, rolling his eyes at her. “And anyway, it wasn’t you; I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”

“Sure, sure,” she nods, but still very obviously doesn’t believe him.

So they just stand there awkwardly, her arms crossed and his hands still clasping onto the sheets to cover himself.

“Well?” She finally asks, breaking the silence. “Are you going to take care of your situation or what?”

“Can you, like, go out or something?” He swallows thickly, trying hard not to act like this is effecting him at all. In reality, though, he’s humiliated for life. Forever and ever and even more after that, if there’s an _after_ afterlife.

“Fine,” she sighs, but can’t fight the smile she’s getting from _knowing_ his humiliation factor right now. It gives her way too much satisfaction, which he hates. “I’ll be outside—don’t be too loud, screamer.”

“I seriously hate you,” he sighs, his jaw clenching in anger as he sees the annoyingly-proud smirk on her face.

“Sure you do, Peter,” she winks, before walking out and closing the door behind her.

He finally lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, before going to the bathroom and closing the door.

“All jerked out?” MJ looks up at him with a smile as he walks outside finally.

“Please don’t ever bring this up again, okay?” he groans, plopping down on the seat beside her and staring out at the water. He hates that she even _knows_ what he was doing in there. “It’s humiliating enough already.”

“We’ll see,” she shrugs, leaning back in her chair to bask in the sunlight.

“You know what I forgot about?” He looks at her, smiling. _“You_ are supposed to be being nice to me. Which you haven’t been doing this entire trip.”

“God, Peter, really? How lame could you be?” she groans in annoyance, glancing over at him with one eye closed so the sun doesn’t get in it.

“It was part of our deal,” he crosses his arms, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well when I signed up for this, I didn’t really expect to have your erect penis rubbed all over my leg now, did I?” she asks, and he sighs. “And anyway, it’s not like you can back out now.”

“Whatever,” he retorts, standing up and walking inside to rub the aftersun lotion on his skin. It’s better than yesterday, but he _really_ doesn’t want it to peel. Plus, he needed an excuse to hide his blush from MJ after she brought up _the situation_ again.

“Stop being such a baby, Parker,” she laughs, walking in behind him and falling against the bed. “My head hurts so goddamn bad. Remind me to never, ever drink pina coladas again.”

“Oh, I _definitely_ will since _I_ ended up having to carry you home and brush your own teeth for you,” he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“Jesus, I had hoped I dreamed that part,” she groans, burying her face in the blanket.

“Nope,” he replies, rubbing his arms down with the lotion. “Pretty embarrassing.”

“Okay, but not _nearly_ as embarrassing as getting a boner while pressed against me, so don’t even _think_ about blackmailing me with that,” she laughs with a sigh, practically _daring_ him to even try.

He can’t stand her.

“I was never going to try and blackmail you, okay? Jesus,” he shakes his head, leaning down to grab a shirt and pull it over his head. It sticks uncomfortably against his skin. “Did you really get _that_ drunk on two pina coladas? Lightweight much?”

“I wish I was a lightweight—drunker on less is a win-win,” she shrugs, watching him dress. “But no. I had three—two on the beach, and another with snack bar guy—whose name is Jason, by the way—before you found me.”

“Really?” He asks, pausing his movements and glancing at her to read her face and see if it’s true. He quickly focuses back on something else and tries to act like he doesn’t care. Which is true. “What’d you guys, like...do?”

“If you _have_ to know, we hung out on the beach and talked for a few minutes when he got off work. He had a family thing, though, so he couldn’t stay.” she shrugs, sitting up on her elbows. “Why? Are you getting jealous, Parker?”

“Of course not,” he replies as a matter of factly, pushing his hair back and taking in a breath. “Just making sure none of your family saw you out with some other guy.”

“Oh yeah, right,” she winks at him teasingly, and he just shakes his head with a laugh.

“So what are we doing today since we aren’t playing tennis?” he clears his throat, changing the topic from this “Jason” guy.

“I don’t know about you, but _I’m_ going on a hike,” she sits up, yawning as she makes her way to her bag. He whips his head around quickly, looking at her in surprise.

“What? Really?” he asks, watching her pull clean clothes from her back and stack them on her arm. “Even with that hangover? I figured you were just...making something up to get your aunt off your back about tennis.”

“Well, yeah, but I _do_ actually want to go on a hike. Besides, I have these,” she tells him, shaking a bottle of Aleve and then popping it open and taking two. “It’ll suck at first, but in about half an hour it’ll have been like I never even downed three Pina Coladas at all.”

“Yeah, well _I’m_ not carrying you if you get sick,” he shrugs, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it that makes you think I would _ever_ ask you to carry me?” she laughs, narrowing her eyes and waiting for his explanation.

“You know, because I’m so _strong_ and _buff_ now,” he grins smugly, and she takes in a sudden breath as that triggers her memory from last night. “Your words, not mine.”

“I was drunk, Parker. Trust me when I say it meant absolutely _nothing,”_ she tries to laugh it off nonchalantly, but he can tell she’s embarrassed about it. Which is odd to see from her since it’s so rare. Usually this dynamic is completely the opposite, so he’s savoring this sweet, sweet moment. “My mind was practically...mush.”

“How does that saying go again? “A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts”?” he shrugs, now seeing why _she_ teases him so much. It’s actually extremely fun. “But in this case it’s a woman, obviously.”

“The fact that you’re...you know, sort of muscly is only an observation— _n_ _ot_ a compliment.” she scoffs, shaking her head.

“Mhmm, sure,” he nods and sighs as he goes to his bag to grab his own hiking clothes.

“Don’t get all proud and smug, okay? And grow up.” she tells him, trying to brush him off. But he can tell it bothers her, which makes him really, really, inexplicably happy.

“I mean, it’s just...kind of embarrassing how much you obviously want me, is all,” he sighs, their shoulders brushing as he walks past her to the bathroom. Then, standing in the doorway, he adds, “You know, just a little desperate.”

“Okay, mister I-get-a-boner-every-time-a-girl-looks-at-me,” she taunts, and suddenly his mojo is gone. Just like that.

“You know what? That’s not even close to true, so I’m just gonna ignore it,” he laughs it off, moving to close the door. His momentary fun is over, and she’s back to her usual torment of him, instead of the other way around.

She just gives him a cheesy smile, before he rolls his eyes and slams the bathroom door.

After brushing his teeth and fixing his messy hair, he opens the door and walks out, heading to his suitcase to grab his sunscreen.

“Really, Peter? Aren’t you the one annoyed at me for not knocking?” She laughs, and as soon as he looks up, he notices her pulling her bikini strings and tying them together from the back. He doesn’t _see_ anything, of course, but he feels jumpy regardless.

“Oh God, I didn’t...I had no idea you were, like, naked,” he mumbles out nervously, turning around and rubbing his neck. He takes in a long, deep breath, before swallowing thickly. “Well, not _naked_ naked, but still. I didn’t see anything, by the way, I j-”

“It’s just a body, Peter,” she sighs simply, interrupting his rambling by gently punching him in the shoulder as she passes him to go to the bathroom. “Grow up, maybe?”

“I was just trying to be...I don’t know, respectful or something,” he replies, looking at her in the mirror. She’s leaning down, and she glances up at him through the mirror with a smile, before splashing her face with water and dropping the conversation altogether.

“So what’s the deal with your cousins? Do you...like them?” Peter asks, sitting on the bed while MJ brushes her teeth and pulls her hair back and moisturizers her face.

“Uh,” she hesitates, taking her toothbrush out of her mouth and hesitating—her eyes flickering up to the lights above the mirror in thought. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he nods, and even though her answer was vague, he’s still surprised she said that about even _one_ family member, let alone two. “Will you tell me about them? I feel like I should know at least the bare minimum since we’ve been supposed to be dating for the past, like, five months almost.”

“Jennifer’s the oldest,” she tells him, pausing to spit her toothpaste out in the sink before continuing, “She’s my age, and we’re in the same year at college. She’s...nice. I guess as nice as you can be with a mom like aunt Kyra, but still. She got her mom and aunt’s passive aggressive comment curse, but it’s not quite as bad so it’s tolerable.

Then there’s Abby, who’s a Junior in highschool. She’s...not so nice. Perpetual rebellious teen antics, which was there _before_ she was even a teen. Always partying; huge fan of drugs and alcohol. Lot of fun, though, but will inevitably start trouble. And lots of it. They have a younger brother, too, but he’s only eight, so he’s staying home with the nanny, I assume, so they can “enjoy” their vacation. So there you go—you’re all caught up.”

“Sounds...interesting,” he nods, and she laughs as she steps back into the room from the bathroom, and then walks over to the kitchenette to grab a water from the mini fridge there.

“Interesting it is,” she tells him, tossing him a water bottle too. Then she grabs her bag, and stuffs it full of snacks. “Make sure to be generous with the sunscreen—we don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, sitting up and walking over to grab the sunscreen. He takes his shirt off and applies it all over his body while MJ slips on some clothes over her bikini. Then, reluctantly, he has to ask her to rub the sunscreen on his back, and then _finally_ they leave the bungalow to go on this hike.

“So where is it we’re going exactly?” Peter asks as they walk down the dock, trying to distract MJ from staring over at her mom and aunt who are playing singles tennis. “Is there even a trail or are we just going to like...have to push our way through that jungle?”

“Jason told me about a trail that’s down the beach that way,” she points to her right, but her eyes are still on the tennis court, watching her mom. “He said there’s a huge, beautiful waterfall an hour or so in. It’s what inspired me to take a hike in the first place.”

“Oh,” Peter nods, annoyed even by the _name_ Jason now, and he _still_ can’t pinpoint why. But at least she’s distracted enough to be not staring at her mom anymore.

“Jeez, Peter, not in public! My family is _right there!_ ” she laughs loudly, wrapping her hand around his arm while they walk along the beach, right past the tennis courts where her mom is glaring at them in annoyance.

“What the hell was that?” he whispers, confused as they keep walking along the beach.

“Don’t you remember my amendment to our deal from last night?” she nudges him, plastering on a huge, fake smile. Then, as soon as they get far enough down the beach that there are trees blocking the view of the tennis court, she pushes him off of her and the smile drops. “Your _new_ job is to be disgusting with me, and vice versa. We’re gonna show her just how happy two NYU students can be. And it’s especially gonna kill her since _she_ hasn’t been sexually active in forever, and her underachieving daughter is getting banged multiple times daily.”

He hesitates a moment, squinting his eyes, before replying, “Yeah, but you aren’t.”

“Shut up, Parker, that’s not the point,” she huffs, shaking her head. “The _point_ is I don’t need extravagance and money to be happy, but she can’t see that. I’m perfectly happy living a mediocre and average life. So we’re just rubbing that exact thing in her face.”

“So…you’re rubbing in her face that you’re dating a mediocre and average guy, too?” He looks down at the sand, smiling a little so she doesn’t think she’s hurting his feelings. Even though she kind of is.

“You know I don’t mean it like that,” her voice softens slightly, her furious exterior transitioning to a regretful one. “God, I talk about my mom being a superiority-complex-ridden classist, but that’s sort of what I’m acting like I guess. I just meant you go to NYU too, and you’re dating _me,_ so it’s like…”

“No, I get it,” he waves her off, shrugging. “I was just messing with you. Is this the trail you were talking about?”

“Uh...yeah, it is,” she nods, taking in a breath. He can tell she feels bad, but he just wants this conversation to be over, really. He feels stupid for even starting it, but he thought she was going to _fight_ him on it or at least deny it—not _agree_ with him.

Peter leads the way, walking ahead of MJ and holding back overgrown limbs and branches for her. They don’t talk much; the awkwardness of the previous conversation still hanging in the air. And the silence, of course, makes him start overthinking and worrying.

He thinks about Jason, and then about the four times he and MJ have kissed, and about the...situation from this morning.

First off, there’s Jason. What is it about this guy he hates so much? He can’t figure it out. He’s good-looking, nice, down to earth. He shakes the thought away and moves onto the next, which is...

Kissing MJ. He keeps going back to that in his mind, going over the one from last night most of all. She kissed him so hard and passionately, that it _almost_ felt real. But then when they parted and she stormed off, he noticed her family there and everyone else staring at them, and he was rudely ripped back to reality. He hates her, yes, but damn she’s a good kisser. Not that he’s ever, _ever_ going to tell her that, because he would die before giving her the satisfaction. But still, it’s unfortunately true.

And then, worst of all, his mind goes over the happenings of this morning. The absolute most _humiliating_ thing that’s ever happened to him, hands down. He told her it was from a dream, but that was a lie, and he’s in denial of the truth: that it actually _was_ because of MJ. She was laying on him with her hand pressed against his chest, and she was kissing his jaw, his mouth. How could he _not_ have felt something from that? Any sane person would—it’s just reality. And he _refuses_ to believe it was _actually_ because of MJ, because he’s convinced it would happen if _anyone_ had been doing what she was doing. Plus, the fact that he’s never been that close to a girl before is a probably a major contributor, too.

“Thinking about me naked or what?” MJ asks, giving a small smile as _she_ now holds back a branch for him, somehow getting ahead of him while he was in his thoughts.

“You wish, but no,” he laughs a little, the awkwardness from earlier suddenly disappearing as their usual bantering dynamic makes another appearance. “Just...stuff.”

“What stuff?” she pushes, and he sighs. Typical MJ—she can’t just leave things alone. Ever.

“Just Ned. And Aunt May. I was just thinking about how I needed to call them when we get back—let them know how everything’s going.” He replies, completely making it up on the spot.

He has to either 1) learn how to lie better, or 2) stop lying altogether, because MJ _always_ knows he’s lying, and _he_ always knows that she knows he’s lying.

“Mhmm,” she nods, but he just sighs and bites the inside of his cheek as he follows behind her. There’s no way he’s going to tell her the truth, so he’d rather just keep her thinking he’s a liar instead.

They walk for fifteen, twenty, thirty more minutes in mostly silence, with only a few “wow”’s and “that’s beautiful”’s in between. They cross a huge, long, beautiful bridge, climb across rocks over a river, and then finally—after pushing back a gigantic fern leaf that’s blocking the trail—see the gigantic waterfall they’ve been searching for.

Both of them stand there in mesmiration, sweating and smiling, unable to even believe their own eyes. There’s a lake where the waterfall runs to, and it’s surrounded by big, green plants, and purple, pink, yellow, and blue flowers. The waterfall is loud and relaxing, and he smiles and pushes his hair back, feeling like he’s in a movie. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Ever.

“Holy shit,” MJ laughs out, jogging over to the edge, before peeling her clothes and shoes off. Then, looking over at him, she asks, “You gonna get in or just keep watching me get undressed?”

“I was looking at the water, not you,” he replies, now walking over himself. Even at MJ’s comment, he _still_ can’t wipe the smile off of his face that’s been plastered there in admiration since he’s seen the waterfall and its surroundings. “I want to say it’s beautiful, but that seems like a really, really unjust understatement.”

“Agreed,” MJ smiles, looking around her and taking in a long, deep breath, before diving in. He kicks his shoes off, and reaches over his shoulders to pull his shirt off.

“I’m coming in!” Peter laughs, stepping backwards a little, before making a run for it, jumping, and grabbing his legs mid-air so he can make a bigger splash. Then he hits the water, the coolness of it suddenly surging over him. He swims back to the top, smiling as he resurfaces and pushes his hair back, taking a breath as his eyes find MJ.

“My family may be psychotic, but they _do_ know how to vacation,” she smiles, splashing him. They have to talk louder because of the noisy waterfall. “Can you believe this view?”

He looks around, grinning and swaying his arms to keep himself afloat, listening to the birds and the water and fully taking all of this in.

“I really can’t,” he laughs, then his eyes stop as he looks at MJ. She’s smiling, looking all around. Her hair is messy and curly and all in her face, and her skin is wet and glowy and beautiful in the sunlight, and he’s suddenly fighting the urge to gulp.

“I say we swim for a few more minutes, and then go get a closer look at that badass waterfall,” MJ turns to him, smiling and pushing her hair back.

“Yeah,” Peter nods and laughs, blinking away his hypnotization. What the hell was that? “Yeah, let’s do that.”

So they do. They swim for about half an hour, actually, before MJ suggests they start their trek to the waterfall. They pull themselves out of the water, and MJ ties her hair back and leads the way. Their bare feet press into the warm grass as they walk along a hill to get up to the waterfall, glancing around themselves to enjoy the scenery, too. Then they finally find an accessible ledge, so MJ tosses her bag down on the ground, and begins to climb.

“God, I’ve always wanted to stand behind a waterfall!” MJ laughs, and Peter almost has a _heart attack_ watching her fearlessly step from one huge rock to another. She’s not even worrying at all about the two hundred foot drop below her that she could have _easily_ fallen down on if she had even _barely_ misstepped.

“Can you, like...help me? Please?” Peter asks, his eyes wide as he clutches the rocks beside him for dear life. He doesn’t even _dare_ look down, because he’s pretty sure he’d pass out.

“Huh?” MJ turns around then, before seeing the fear in his eyes. “Oh shit, are you afraid of heights?”

“Um...a little bit, yeah,” he nods, his breath shallow as he tries not to panic. “I just didn’t really, you know, think it would be _this_ far up.”

“Let’s go back down and find somewhere else then,” she nods, thankfully not making a big deal about it. He’s actually surprised she isn’t. “I’m sure there’s another ledge farther down or something.”

“No, it’s...it’s okay. We both looked and there isn’t, and I know you want to do this,” he swallows, both of them now having to practically _scream_ at each other to be heard over the water.

“Are you sure?” she looks at him, slightly surprised. He just nods and takes in a deep breath, and right before he goes to make the leap, she holds her hand out to him.

“If you tell anyone about this you die,” she tells him, her hand outstretched for him to grab for leverage.

“Yeah, of course,” he nods, smiling a little as he nervously grabs her hand, counts to three, and then leaps over to the ledge with MJ. He lets out a sigh of relief, smiling at her as a silent thank you. She laughs and shakes her head, still holding onto his hand as she leads them further across the rocks. He’s never seen her smile this much.

Eventually they make it underneath the waterfall, mist in their faces as they press their backs to the rock and stare out at the water in front of them. Peter turns his head and looks at MJ, their hands still clasped together as he notices her eyes shut, and her head leaning back against the rock in relaxation. He smiles as he watches her, somehow able to relax more, too.

He’s also surprised that she’s still holding his hand, but _he_ would be the one to look like a jerk if he pulled back now, after she was only doing it to help him anyway.

She blinks her eyes open then, looking in his and noticing him staring. He clears his throat (even though he himself can’t even hear it over the waterfall) and looks away, pretending she had just caught him at the _exact_ moment he had glanced at her. Then she unclasps her hand from his, and he instantly feels bad. _And_ he feels like a creep.

“Feel it!” MJ yells in Peter’s ear, but he _still_ doesn’t understand what she said until he turns to look at her, and sees her hand extended out, feeling the water with it. She’s grinning as she grabs his hand and pulls it forward, both of them now feeling the cold, fresh water running across their skin.

“This doesn’t even seem real!” he laughs, looking up at the waterfall, feeling how strong the pressure of the running water is on his palm.

“Huh?!” MJ asks, leaning in closer. Then he gets next to her ear, yelling “this doesn’t even feel real!” even louder.

“Oh, I know!” she nods, laughing. Then Peter extends his other hand under the water, and after MJ notices, she follows suit, too, both of them laughing. Then, without warning, she pulls her hands back, curves them around her mouth, and screams at the top of her lungs. He can barely hear it, but the fact that he can even hear it _at all_ must mean that it would be painfully loud if it weren’t for the waterfall. But he guesses that’s the appeal of it.

“You go!” She turns to him, using the waterfall to splash him.

He’s a little embarrassed at first, knowing she’s watching him, but when he puts his hands to his mouth and closes his eyes, he just smiles and screams at the top of his lungs, too. He feels the vibrations from it in his lungs, his throat, but the fact that he can be as loud as he wants without anyone even hearing it is somehow...freeing.

He feels exhilarated; his heart is racing, his breath is heavy, and his adrenaline is pumping.

They take turns doing that for a few more minutes, before MJ eventually points her finger behind him, mouthing “are you ready to get out?”

He nods and takes the lead, feeling her close behind him. When it comes to the gap in the ledge, he just takes a deep breath, doesn’t look down, and hops over it. Then he turns and puts his hand out for MJ, giving her the same courtesy she gave him earlier.

She grabs it, extends her leg, and then jumps. And she makes it, too, but the rock beneath her feet starts crumbling, and she lets out a soundless shriek as she starts losing her balance. Peter’s heart drops, and he gulps as he quickly steps forward and grabs her waist, pulling her towards him. His back presses against the rock wall safely, and they both have their arms wrapped around each other in a still-scared-to-move moment. He closes his eyes, not even _noticing_ the painful rock wall digging into his skin as both he and MJ take a moment to calm down. Their bodies are rising and falling with their breathing in sync with each others, and her fingers are digging into his sides with worry that she could still fall. His are doing the same to her.

After composing himself and thanking _god_ nothing serious happened, he pulls back and searches her face. “Are you okay?”

“Holy shit,” she replies, and a smile spreads across her face. Then she starts laughing. _Actually_ laughing, and he’s sure she’s going insane now. “That was crazy!”

They unwrap their sticky, sweaty bodies from each other’s, and while Peter is still trying to recover from even _watching_ that happen, _she’s_ still laughing.

“I thought for sure I was about to fall,” she laughs, now leading the way. He feels like he has major emotional whiplash right now. “Goddamn, that adrenaline rush was incredible.”

“Jesus, MJ, you could have just _died,_ so why are you laughing? That was terrifying.” He breathes in deeply, pushing his hair back.

“Yeah, but I _didn't,_ Peter,” she laughs, lightly punching his shoulder. “You have to stop worrying about hypotheticals and live in reality.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, shaking his head. He’s _still_ trying to recover.

“You should have seen your face, Peter,” she sighs with a laugh, shaking her head. “I’m surprised you didn’t confess your undying love for me before I fell to my death.”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head, continuing behind her. “I was just thinking about how bad it would be that I had to go back, and tell your family that you _fell_ off a cliff. I don’t think I could even do it; I’d just hide out in this jungle for the rest of my life to avoid it.”

“That would probably be best,” she laughs, now hopping back onto the safe, green hill. He takes in a sigh of relief as he makes it too, finally out of danger’s way.

“I’m getting hungry, wanna sit and eat?” MJ asks, pulling her bag over her shoulder and looking back at him.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he nods, following behind her and rubbing his stomach.

They sit down on the grass beside the lake, and Peter closes his eyes and sighs, soaking up the warm sunlight into his wet skin.

“Choose your weapon,” MJ asks, holding out two granola bars. “Chocolate or peanut butter?”

“You can pick your favorite and I’ll take the other,” he shrugs, laying back against the grass and clasping his hands together behind his head.

“Peanut butter it is,” she tosses it at him, and it falls flat on his stomach.

“Jerk,” he groans, grabbing it and peeling it open, before taking a bite.

They sit there in silence for a while, just enjoying their surroundings and their snacks.

“Hey, MJ?” Peter speaks up eventually, breaking their silence.

“Yeah?” she asks, turning her head towards him. He just keeps staring up at the sky, unable to make direct eye contact while he talks to her about something serious.

“I really don’t want you to take this the wrong way, okay? But...don’t you think lying to your mom about your life and having a boyfriend is sort of counterproductive for what you want to prove? Like, if you wanted to show her that you’re happy, then...why bring me? Why lie?” he asks, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. He never knows how MJ is going to react, and it _always_ makes him nervous to even bring these things up.

Silence. She doesn’t talk, she just breathes in deeply; her chest rising and falling with it. He’s terrified.

“You...caught me,” she whispers, and he finally turns to look at her, trying to read her face. Is she mad? Upset? He can’t tell.

She sits up on her elbow, plucks a flower from the ground and stares at it, before glancing at him. He can’t breathe, as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Peter?” she laughs a little, pushing her hair back and looking in his eyes. “I asked you to come because I like you, and I wanted to spend more time with you.”

“What?” Peter mutters, now sitting up on his elbow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I just…” she starts, but then a smile spreads across her face, and she looks down. Peter’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, until she starts laughing. He groans in annoyance then falls back on the ground and rolls his eyes. A joke, of course. “Holy _shit_ the look on your face.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?” he grumbles, crossing his arms and turning away from her.

“Disappointed it wasn’t true, Parker?” she teases, nudging him with a laugh. “Aww, you wish I was in love with you, don’t you?”

“No, of course not,” he replies, turning to look at her. “You’re just annoying. Besides, I was just gonna tell you too bad that I don’t feel the same!”

“Yeah, right, because you _looked_ like you were about to kiss me,” she shrugs, still having this annoying, smug smile on her face. “And we’ve kissed enough times now for me to know what that looks like.”

“Okay, _having_ to kiss you and _wanting_ to kiss you are two very, very different things,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re just...just…”

“Just...what?” she whispers, looking in his eyes. Their faces are close now, and she reaches over to put her hand on his forearm, gently squeezing the muscle there.

“Just insane!” he pulls away, scrambling to his feet as he finally finds the word he was looking for. “Seriously! You’re insane!”

“God, don’t be so boring, Peter,” she laughs, completely amused watching him freak out. But then she looks up at him, biting her lip as she slowly lets her gaze move across his half-naked body. He crosses his arms. “I can’t say I don’t like the view, though.”

“I know you’re just...just trying to make me uncomfortable, and I’m done letting it work,” he swallows thickly, trying to compose himself. “So go ahead and check me out all you want; it doesn’t bother me.”

“I guess I’ll just have to move on to touching then,” she slowly stands up, walking closer to him.

He’s trying _so hard_ to keep his facade intact, because if he fails, she’ll keep doing this for the _rest of the trip,_ and he doesn’t know if he can even stand another _day_ of it. The only reason why she even does it is because she wants to embarrass him, so he just has to make sure he shows her that it doesn’t bother him, and she’ll _finally_ leave him alone.

She reaches up and lightly ghosts her hand across his chest, his abs, as she looks in his eyes. He forces himself to keep a nonchalant face, shrugging as if he’s completely unaffected.

“See? You do nothing for me,” he tells her, not allowing himself to even _swallow_ as she stares at him like that.

“I think your boner this morning said otherwise,” she narrows her eyes, smirking at him.

“God, why are you so, like…hypersexual anyway?” he rolls his eyes, slowly backing up. “It’s exhausting.”

“I can tell you’re nervous, Peter,” she tells him, her hand flat against his stomach, slowly moving up. He tries to fight the chill bumps forming on his skin from her touch, but it doesn’t work. “And you should be.”

“Huh?” Peter asks, suddenly confused. But then her hands push his chest—hard—and he loses balance, and his stomach drops as he falls backwards and hits the water. He hears her laughing on his way down.

He resurfaces, gasping for air, as he watches her run and jump in, too.

“Jesus, MJ, how are you so strong?” he groans in anger, splashing her as soon as her head appears above the water. “You could have warned me, you know. I didn’t even have time to take in a breath.”

“Aw, but that takes away all the fun,” she replies, splashing him back.

God, he hates her.

After spending another hour swimming, they decide to go back to the beach since they’re already getting tired, and it’s an hour-long trip back anyway. So they get out—their skin pruned up from the water—and put their clothes back on. MJ ties her hair up, and then takes the lead on the trail to get them back. Like so many other things he’d hate to admit to her, he feels more at ease when she’s in charge. It means that _he_ doesn’t have to be.

“You know, you never answered my question earlier about why you’re lying to your mom,” he tells her, noticing her avoid eye contact as she holds back a branch for him.

“That was on purpose, Parker, take a hint,” she sighs, shaking her head.

“Why?” he presses, and she groans.

“God, because you’re right?” she turns around, huffing in annoyance as she crosses her arms, blocking his path. “As disgusting as that is to say, you’re right, okay? Happy?”

Then she turns around and keeps going, now walking faster to purposely leave him behind. But he jogs to catch up and grabs her arm, turning her around.

“No, I’m not happy,” he scoffs, now crossing his own arms. She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you want to talk about this?”

“Not with you,” she replies flatly, and he breathes in, pretending that didn’t sting.

“Fine, then pretend I’m someone else,” he tells her, shrugging it off. “Because you have no other friends, and your whole family is believing this lie, so I’m the only person here that you _can_ talk to.”

“Quick of you to assume we’re friends,” she retorts, doing that thing she _always_ does when she doesn’t want to talk about her feelings: be _horribly_ mean. He knows it’s just a coping mechanism, so he tries not to take it personally.

“If we weren’t, I wouldn’t be here,” he quips, just as confident as she is now. “So just tell me the truth: why are you lying to your mom if you don’t even _believe_ you need a boyfriend to be happy?”

She looks at him, still angry and annoyed, before _eventually_ giving in and relaxing her body from it’s tense stance.

“Because...there’s a small part of me that still wants her approval,” she breathes out, clenching and unclenching her fists as she looks down at the ground. “She’s drilled this shit in my head since I was a kid, and it’s just hard to get out of that sometimes. And I thought bringing you would work, and telling her that I have straight A’s would work, but now I know that _nothing_ I can do could _ever_ be enough for her. There’s always more, always bigger, always better. So once I realized that, it just made me want to piss her off. Immature, yeah, but I don’t care. If I have to be here for six more days, then I might as well enjoy it.”

“Doesn’t that feel better to get off your chest?” he asks, smiling supportively.

“Thinking about my chest, Parker?” she raises an eyebrow, and he sighs. “Fine, yes. Sort of.”

“For the record, I think your mom is wrong. No, you don’t live this huge, extravagant life, but I can see you’re much happier than she is—someone who _does_ live that life,” he shrugs, trying his best to comfort her. They don’t really do this sort of thing, so he doesn’t exactly know what to say. “Just saying—she’s wrong, and I agree with you.”

“Thanks, Peter,” she nods, and so does he. “Now I’m going to cut this heart-to-heart thing short and start moving again.”

“Good idea,” he nods, laughing uncomfortably. “God, do you even know what time it is? I don’t think I’ve known all day—not even when we woke up.”

“Me neither, actually,” she shrugs, laughing. “I assume around four or five, though, from the sun.”

“Really? That must be why I’m so hungry,” he whines pitifully, rubbing his stomach. Then, without warning, another granola bar hits him in the head, and he looks up to see MJ closing her bag. He just smiles and opens it, scarfing it down.

“Okay, I’m not sure if I’m, like, hallucinating, but I _really_ feel like I smell steak right now,” he sniffs, as they _finally_ make it back to the beach around forty-five minutes later.

“No hallucinations, surprisingly,” MJ sighs, holding her shoes in her hand as they walk across the sand. “Looks like we’re having a family barbecue tonight. How fun.”

“My God, that smells good,” Peter laughs, squinting his eyes to see as they get closer.

When they finally get there, the three of them are sitting around a fire pit in front of the ocean with wine glasses in their hands. They’ve actually _hired_ someone to cook at the grill for them.

“Just in time—the chef just started grilling the food!” her aunt smiles, happy to see them.

“Well, I hope you two don’t think you’re going to eat with us right now after going on a hike,” her mom looks them over, and Peter squirms. “Go shower.”

“Good to see you too, mom,” MJ rolls her eyes, grabbing Peter’s arm and leading him to the dock. “I guess me and Peter will just take a shower together so we can be back in time!”

They can hear her mom take in an annoyed breath as they walk away, and they both grin. It even gives Peter enough of a boost to add: “I don’t know, MJ, I think that might end up taking _much_ longer than separate showers, if you know what I mean.”

MJ’s mouth drops open at his comment, and it takes _everything_ in her to keep from laughing. She’s proud of him.

They can hear her mom talking to her aunt in an annoyed voice, but they just walk in their bungalow then, happy they succeeded.

“Damn, Peter, I didn’t think you had it in you,” she laughs, pushing him playfully. “That was a nice touch.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he shrugs, smiling proudly. To be honest, even _he_ didn’t think he had that in him. But MJ’s mom was just being such a jerk, and it made him _so_ happy to see her pissed off at MJ’s comment that he just couldn’t help himself.

“You can go ahead and take a shower—I’ll wait outside,” he tells her, but she steps in front of him before he can go to the door.

“Unless you want to watch,” she says, slowly unbuttoning her shirt.

“You’re, like, the biggest pervert of all time, you know that?” he laughs, shaking his head and pushing past her.

“Yeah, yeah, you love it,” she replies proudly, as he sighs and shuts the door behind him, plopping down to watch the sunset on their porch.

“Your turn,” she walks outside twenty minutes later, standing in the doorway. She’s wearing this white see-through crochet sundress, and her black bikini beneath it. Then she has some sandals, an anklet, and her wet, curly hair is pinned back with a beautiful, pink hibiscus flower stuck behind her ear. “The sunset is amazing through the glass, so you better hurry up to not miss it.”

“Wow,” he laughs, looking at her and standing up. “Nice dress.”

“Only because it’s almost completely see-through, creep,” she pushes his shoulder, laughing as he walks past her into the bungalow. The orange sunset is shining on her as she stands there, her sunkissed skin _actually_ looking like it’s glowing.

“I saw you in _just_ your bikini all day today,” he explains, digging through his suitcase for clean clothes. “The dress just suits you, is all I meant.”

She hesitates a moment, wanting to reply something mean to his compliment but coming up short. So, as she closes the door, she says, “just go take your shower.”

He laughs as he gathers his things, then takes his turn in the shower.

After he’s done he throws on his clothes, and then goes to the mirror and fixes his hair and puts on deodorant. Then he goes to the back door to get MJ, and they mentally prepare themselves for dinner with her family.

“Oh, don’t you need to check in with Ned and May?” MJ asks, right as they’re about to walk out.

“I’ll just do it when we get back in—I’m starving,” he laughs, walking out. “Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s a big time difference that I haven’t calculated, so I’ll have to figure that out anyway.”

“Fine,” MJ sighs, following behind him. She just wanted a reason _not_ to have to face her family again, which he understands. But it’s impossible to do that for the rest of the trip, so they may as well get it over with now.

“Ready?” Peter asks, smiling as they walk down the dock. He grabs her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together as they move past the bungalows and are now able to see her family around the fire pit.

“No, but it’s whatever,” she laughs, squeezing his hand. “Let’s just get it over with.”

“Oh, MJ, you look so beautiful!” her aunt smiles at her, and has now moved from her chair to John’s lap.

“Right?” Peter looks at her, smiling.

“Stop it,” MJ rolls her eyes, trying to fight a smile. “We’re gonna grab some food.”

“The beef tips are _amazing,”_ her aunt gushes, but her mom just sits there watching her and Peter, not even _trying_ to hide her disapproval.

“I’ll be sure to grab some,” MJ replies, smiling as her and Peter make their way to the table beside the grill where everything’s setup. There’s beef tips, sweet potato wedges, spinach dip, grilled asparagus, and sliders. Let’s just say Peter’s never been to _this_ kind of barbecue.

“Is a normal ribs-and-burgers barbecue not enough anymore?” MJ rolls her eyes, loading her plate down regardless. Then she picks up a glass of wine and a napkin, and waits for Peter.

“I thought you were never drinking again,” Peter laughs, but can’t deny how sophisticated she looks as she holds the glass in her hand, casually taking a few sips.

“I said I was never drinking a _pina colada_ again,” she shrugs, watching him get his food.

“So is there not, like, a soda I can get, or…” he looks around, but only sees his designated glass of red wine.

“No, now grab it and let’s go eat,” she replies, and he sighs and obeys. He carefully holds his glass in one hand and his plate in the other, making his way to the fire pit behind MJ.

“I think I’m going to steal a great idea from my aunt and sit with you, babe,” MJ smiles at him, setting her glass down on the table beside them as she sits on his lap.

“Sounds great,” he nods, pulling her onto him. This should be fun.

They both grab their plates; MJ setting hers on her lap and Peter setting his on her knees. And they finally, _finally_ eat.

“So I guess you’re feeling better then, John?” MJ asks with a mouthful of potato wedges. Her mom cringes.

“Much,” he nods, and gives a tiny, barely noticeable smile. It’s the first Peter has seen from him this entire trip. “Thanks for asking, Michelle.”

“Of course,” she nods, shoving more food in her mouth.

“So, Peter, since we’re all here for a _wedding,_ do _you_ ever see yourself getting married?” her mom asks, and he and MJ look at each other, before both taking a large gulp from their wine glass in synchronicity. They both know what she _really_ meant by that: _do you plan on ever marrying our Michelle?_

“Mom, we’ve been together five months,” MJ sighs, and her mom is visibly getting annoyed.

“I’m talking about in _general,_ Michelle,” her mom retorts, which makes Peter feel inclined to take _another_ gulp of his wine. If there was ever a time to drink, this is it.

“Um…” Peter breathes out, feeling the burning sensation all the way down his throat, into his stomach. “Yes, I do. I’ve always wanted a family.”

MJ just rubs her temples.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” her aunt adds, laying her head on John’s chest. “But I do hope you at least wait until after college.”

“Yeah, that’s what I plan on,” he smiles sweetly, nodding his head. “Education has always been a big part of my life.”

Now he holds his wine glass with nervous, sweaty hands from being put on the spot, and he’s sipping generously. MJ’s watching carefully with a smile, finding it amusing.

After they finish eating they set their plates on the table beside them, and MJ snuggles against his chest. He lightly runs his finger along her arm distractedly, feeling amazing from the small buzz he has.

“I’m gonna take these plates over to the table and get them out of your way,” her aunt tells them, smiling proudly as she sees them together up close. “Refill?”

“Yes, please,” MJ smiles up at her, holding her glass as her aunt pours more wine into it.

“Peter? Do you want some?” her aunt asks, now hovering the bottle over _his_ glass. Again, this family is super weird.

“Um…” he thinks about it, and quickly realizes that he doesn’t want this euphoric feeling going away any time soon. “Yeah, sure.”

So she pours it, and he thanks her, and then she takes the plates away as promised. The fire is warm and crackling in front of them, and this is the most relaxed he’s felt in a while; even despite the fact that MJ’s mom is ten feet away.

Her aunt comes back soon and sits down in John’s lap again, her glass filled now, too.

MJ shifts slightly in Peter’s lap, sitting up and pressing her lips to his ear. He gets chills on his skin as she whispers: “Mom’s watching us. Pretend I’m saying something funny.”

So he smiles and laughs a little, turning to look at her face. She’s there and smiling too, her hand now on his cheek. She has small dimples that he only notices when he’s this close, and she smells like coconuts, and her hair (and the flower in it) are blowing slightly in the breeze.

They’re both laughing at nothing now, as she reaches up and rubs her thumb across his lips, before slowly leaning in and kissing them with her own. He sighs and kisses her back, his eyes flickering closed at the warm sensation of her lips on his, and the taste of wine on her. Their kissing is slow and sensual; the kind that she _knows_ her mom is going to hate, and coincidentally the only kind you can feel _all_ of when you’re drinking wine. It’s a weirdly-specific feeling.

MJ pulls away eventually and smiles at him, and he can see the buzz in her too, just looking at her face. She’s all smiley and happy and relaxed, and she’s cupping his face in her hand happily. And MJ _never_ acts like this, so that means something.

“Are you blushing _again,_ Peter?” she whispers, smiling and looking over his flushed face in amusement. God, he hates himself sometimes. “This is getting out of hand.”

“It’s just the wine,” he explains, breathing out with a laugh, “It’s making me all hot and…”

“...bothered?” she whispers, raising an eyebrow suggestively with a smirk. His mouth is so incredibly dry right now. He looks at MJ’s mom who is staring him _down,_ but he can’t exactly find it in himself to care too much. It’s probably because of the wine, but not caring what her mom thinks is a miracle, and he’ll take it in whatever form he can get it in.

“God, she’s pissed,” MJ hums out a laugh against Peter’s neck, before sliding her hand beneath his shirt. She keeps it there pressed against his abs, skin-to-skin, and he breathes out as he feels her lips press against his jaw. His hand slowly moves up her back, as her fingernails gently scratch over his stomach. He feels her hot, heavy breath against his neck, and then her warm lips press softly against his pulse.

He can’t think straight.

Her lips move further down his neck now at an achingly slow pace, as his fingers grasp at her dress.

“MJ,” he breathes out as her hand moves further up his shirt, but he grabs it to stop her. “We have to stop.”

“Or…?” she laughs lowly against his skin, and he gulps.

“Or I’m gonna have...a problem,” he replies, trying to keep his voice low enough that her mom can’t hear, but also let it be urgent enough for MJ to notice the severity in his voice.

She pulls back and looks at him, smiling and tilting her head, picking up on it.

“Wouldn’t be the first time today, would it?” she smiles smugly, and he shakes his head and looks away from her, up at her aunt and (soon to be) uncle talking. And her mom is in on the conversation too, which means they were doing _all_ of that, and no one was even watching.

Great.

MJ just lays her head on his chest now, her legs hanging off the side of the chair. Then her hand settles on top of his, and he takes in a long, uneven breath.

“Can you not do that?” he shifts uncomfortably again, and she looks up in confusion.

“Do what?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Your...hand,” he sighs, and she looks down to where her hand is on his arm, and then looks back up at him.

“My hand on your arm is turning you on? Really, Parker?” she laughs, her mouth dropping in shock. “God, and I thought you were weak _before.”_

“Shut up,” he sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not fun for me either, trust me.”

“Who said it wasn’t fun?” she shrugs, before grabbing her glass of wine.

“Are you sure you should drink the rest?” he asks, eyeing her warily. “You already look sort of drunk, and I don’t think either of us want a repeat of last night.”

“I hate when you talk sense into me,” she rolls her eyes, setting it back down.

They lay there for another half an hour or so listening to her aunts crazy college stories, and then they put the fire out and all get up from their seats. The chef already cleaned the food and dirty dishes off the table, so they all make their way back to their bungalows half-drunk and sleepy—MJ’s mom carrying the wine bottle in with her. Then, Kyra reminds them again about the cousins getting in late tonight, before they all go their separate ways.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” MJ smiles as she walks into their room, gravitating towards the bed again. “I mean, I was buzzed or drunk the whole time, but still.”

“It was nice, actually,” Peter laughs, dragging her into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Except _he’s_ not doing it for her this time. “I think your mom was so annoyed by us that she didn’t even _want_ to say anything.”

“Which is a win-win in my book,” MJ laughs, now beginning to brush her teeth.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he breathes out, after they spit their toothpaste out into the sink. “You know, my…um…”

“Almost boner?” MJ laughs, turning to look at him.

“Yeah,” he nods, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. “It already sucks to begin with to not be able to control it, but then the wine...it always makes me more, um…”

“Me too,” she replies, already knowing what he’s about to say. She has that drunk MJ smile on her face still. “Nothing like some red wine to get your metaphorical juices flowing.”

“I’m just...sorry if that was all weird,” he breathes out, both of them standing there in the bathroom looking at each other.

“Don’t worry about it,” she shrugs, finally setting her toothbrush back down on the counter. “Besides, I’m mostly to blame for it anyway. Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“It’s kind of weird seeing nice MJ when you’re drunk,” he laughs, weirdly surprised by not only her apology, but also asking nicely to use the bathroom. Sober MJ would have just pushed him out without a word or warning.

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughs, closing the door on him.

He goes to the room and changes into a t-shirt and some pajama shorts, before drinking water from the bottle beside the bed and sinking down against the mattress. The sheets, the pillow, the blanket—it all feels amazing against his skin.

“God, I can’t wait to sleep,” MJ sighs as she walks back in the room in her PJs, flips the light off, then plops down on her side of the bed.

“Me too,” Peter replies sleepily, everything feeling hazy and weird as sleep is starting to pull his mind from consciousness.

“Don’t say a word about this in the morning,” MJ tells him, and before he can ask what she means, she’s getting closer and pressing her body to his. She lays her head to his chest and wraps her arm around his, sighing contently.

Even in this drunk state, he’s shocked. MJ is always surprising him, yes, but _not_ with things like this. He can’t tell if MJ and red wine are a bad mix or a great one, but either way, he puts his arm around her too, resting his chin on the top of her head as they both fall asleep.


	5. Spa Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is more focused on their emotional connection rather than their physical one, although there's definitely some of both. It's super long—I hope you guys enjoy!! Once again, thank you all for your reviews/support!

“Oh my God, get _off_ of me,” MJ shoves Peter all of the sudden, which wakes him up from his slumber. “What the hell, Peter?”

He can hardly even process what’s going on, because his mind is still foggy from sleep.

“What? You are _not_ going to blame this on me,” he huffs, breathing heavily from the sudden scare. She’s across the bed, staring at him angrily, looking completely disheveled. He _just_ woke up, and he has to deal with this? “You’re the one who was getting all cuddly and touchy last night _— not _me. Remember when you said, “don’t say a word about this in the morning,” before proceeding to wrap all of your limbs around me? Yeah, that was you, not me.”

She pauses, thinking.

“Holy _shit_ that red wine makes me dangerously horny,” she breathes in, finally realizing it _was_ her fault, not his. She throws her legs over the side of the bed, pushing her fingers through her hair. “You know what? I’m never drinking again. Something that could _actually_ make me want to cuddle with you or even _touch_ you must be pure evil, and I shouldn’t let it into my body. Ever.”

“Yeah, same here. And you know what? You could have just apologized for blaming me instead of getting defensive and rude,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and laying back down and pulling the blanket over his head. “Now leave me alone.”

“Fine, I will. I’m going to the snack bar to get breakfast,” MJ huffs, standing up and making her way to the door. Peter’s eyes open again.

“Wait, I’ll go with you,” he replies at the last second, throwing the blanket back and standing up.

“Why? I thought you wanted me to leave you alone?” she narrows her eyes, watching him carefully.

“I just want breakfast,” he shrugs, trying not to make it a big deal. “I’m hungry.”

“Or you just want to spy on me and Jason and make sure we aren’t getting it on on top of the snack bar counter,” she rolls her eyes, watching him slip on shoes.

“Despite what you think, I couldn’t care less about you and Jason; do whatever you want,” he retorts, shaking his head and making his way out of their room. He’s lying, of course, but it’s not like he can _tell_ her it’s because of Jason. Besides, even _he_ doesn’t know why he doesn’t like him yet, anyway.

He’s annoyed at her for being annoyed at him for something _he_ didn’t even do. How could they have even gotten _along_ last night? It seems like two different people living two different lives.

Then, as they’re walking down the dock, her aunt walks out of her bungalow in front of them. MJ immediately yanks Peter against her side and sticks on a smile, putting her arm around him. “Good morning, Aunt Kyra.”

Peter fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh good, I was just coming to wake you!” her aunt claps happily, walking towards them. “I actually have something for you two.”

“No more lingerie, I hope,” MJ laughs, turning to look at Peter. “Peter can hardly even handle me in one.”

“Yeah, she...she looks amazing in it,” he nods, turning to smile at her. It’s a fake one, though, because he’s still tremendously aggravated with her. He can sense her being annoyed at him, and that’s exactly what’s making him annoyed with her. And it’s making it very, very hard to pretend like he’s in _love_ with her.

“Even better than that, actually,” her aunt laughs, and they turn to look at her, waiting. “I booked you two a couples spa day! A romantic massage, facials, steam room, mud bath, pedicures, you name it! Me and John went on Saturday and it was _amazing._ And it’s already paid for, so don’t worry about that.”

“Aunt Kyra, that’s really nice of you, but…” MJ starts, trying to make an excuse on _why_ they can’t do that.

“I won’t take no for an answer!” her aunt laughs, putting a hand on MJ’s shoulder. “You college students deserve the relaxation. Plus, the kids didn’t get in until past four last night, so they won’t be up for another half day, I’m sure. You won’t miss anything! I’ve already called the receptionist and told her I wanted to hear from _all_  the workers on how you two lovebirds liked it after you’re done!”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” MJ nods, forcing a smile. What _real_ couple wouldn’t want a spa day? “We’ll...take you up on that, then.”

“Great! I already called the car in, so it should be here any second to come and pick you up. Feel free to buy any products you want—it’s on me!” Kyra tells them, leading them down the dock to the beach.

“We’re both still in our pajamas, and I still have my bikini on under this, so should we...you know, change first?” MJ asks, still trying to find a way to get out of it.

“You’ll be naked most of the time anyway, so don’t worry about it,” her aunt laughs, and Peter’s eyes widen. This can’t be happening.

“Oh. Well we were just gonna grab some breakf-” MJ starts, but her aunt waves her off, telling her there’s plenty of _amazing_ food there already. And then the car comes, and her aunt is ushering them in excitedly, and now they’re on their way, just like that.

They’re both completely silent while they sit, before MJ asks, “how the hell did that just happen so fast?”

“She’s good at persuading,” Peter sighs, looking out the window.

A spa day actually sounds nice, but both of their energies are weird right now—especially towards each other—and he’s pretty sure it’s because of the cuddling thing. It was nice when they were drunk, but once they were sober and remembered that they hate each other, it felt weird and awkward. And since neither of them know how to deal with that, it transforms into anger towards each other instead. It’s exhausting.

“This place is incredible,” Peter walks in, looking at the indoor koi pond that’s surrounded by flawless white walls and furniture, and a beautifully geometric and modern architecture. He already feels relaxed just _looking_ at it.

“Welcome to Ho’Omana Spa! My name is Alana. Names please?” the worker asks as they walk up to the counter, smiling at them.

“Michelle and Peter? Probably under Jones. My aunt made us an appointment.” MJ tells her, smiling back.

“Ooh, the full couples package,” Alana tells them, after checking their name in the system. “This means you can choose from any of the couples treatments on this list for three full hours. You can take some time and figure it out, or you can just let me know now if you’ve already thought about it.”

MJ grabs the list from her, glances over it for a second with a head tilt, before handing it back and saying, “I think we’re going to do the basic face mask and pedicure combo first, then the sauna, and then we’ll end it with the hour-long couples aromatherapy massage.”

 _“Amazing_ choices,” the woman smiles and nods, typing something in on her computer. “Our couples treatments here have _incredible_ results. I have yet to meet a couple that hasn’t reported falling even more in love with their partner!”

Peter fakes a smile, nodding. MJ wraps her arms around Peter tightly and lays her head on his shoulder, gushing about how she’s not sure she could _ever_ like him _any more_ than she already does. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to smile and _not_ roll his eyes.

“Aww, I love that,” Alana smiles, before leading them through a door and out of the lobby. “Through that door is where you’re going to find your private room to undress and put on the robes provided. Just look around and find the one with your name assigned on the front! When you get finished, all you need to do is knock on the door on the other side of the room, and you’ll be taken to get your face masks and pedicures. Is there any questions you want answered before you begin?”

“I actually think we’re good, thank you,” MJ replies, looking at Peter.

“Yeah, thanks so much,” he nods, smiling.

“Great! I hope you have a relaxing and romantic day,” she tells them, before going back through the door where they came from.

“Ready for our relaxing and romantic day?” MJ raises an eyebrow, before opening the door in front of them. Then, whispering to herself and looking for their changing room, she says, “Jones, Jones, Jones…here we are.”

“Can we not, like, ask for something other than the couples treatment?” Peter asks, walking in and seeing their matching white robes hung up on hangers in front of them.

“Don’t act like I didn’t think about it,” MJ huffs, annoyed as she pushes past him. “But changing our treatments would mean they would have to call the booker-slash-card-owner to confirm the alterations. And then Kyra would see we changed it to a normal package from a couples package, and then we would be interrogated. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not in a good enough mood today to deal with my family’s bullshit.”

“I guess,” he sighs, walking over to grab a robe. “You don’t think we have to actually get, you know... _naked_ naked, do you?”

“I think underwear is optional, but the rest has to go,” she tells him, shrugging.

“Okay,” he breathes out, peeling his shirt off, then his shorts. He’s just in boxers now, and he’s been this naked in front of MJ so many times now that it barely even bothers him anymore. Barely. “This robe is so comfy and fluffy.”

MJ looks over at him with a tiny smile and a shake of her head, before she takes off her t-shirt, then pulls off her shorts and lets them fall to her feet. He looks away, trying to give her privacy.

“Seriously, Peter? Baby much?” she shakes her head, reaching for her robe. So he turns back around, trying not to look at her.

“You get mad when I _do_ turn away, and you call me a creep when I don’t. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it,” he sighs, leaning back against the wall.

“Despite what you think, I don’t exist on this planet for male consumption, Peter,” she tells him, pulling her robe on.

“What? Of course not, I didn’t mean t-” he starts nervously rambling, but she just pushes his shoulder and laughs, and he breathes out, realizing it was a joke. “I can never tell when you’re serious.”

“I have to keep you on your toes,” she winks, before walking out and knocking on the door on their left as advised by the receptionist. Peter can vaguely hear a few other couples talking in their own rooms, as a worker opens the door.

“Face masks and pedicures are right this way,” a woman approaches them and smiles, before turning and leading them through another door. “Unfortunately the customers before you are still in the process of their treatment and they have about ten minutes left. We have a steam room right through that door if you would like to wait there; that’s what most customers like to do!”

“Yeah, that’s perfectly fine,” MJ nods, grabbing Peter’s arm. “We don’t mind waiting.”

“Great! I’ll be back to get you when the other couple is finished,” she tells them, before walking away and letting them go to the steam room.

They walk in and are immediately hit by a wave of moist heat. Peter takes in a stuffy breath, walking in behind MJ.

“Aren’t we doing this again after the pedicure thing?” Peter asks, following MJ’s lead by taking off his robe, setting it beside himself, and then sitting down on the bench. Half naked right next to a half-naked MJ.

“Saunas and steam rooms are different, but it’ll be a lot like this, yeah,” MJ replies, already sounding calm as she relaxes her shoulders and lays back against the wall, closing her eyes. Peter follows suit, sitting back and closing his own. “This one is going to be wet because of the steam, but a sauna just gets super hot and makes you sweat.”

“And we want that _why?”_ he asks, peaking his eye open to look at her.

“Sweating is good for you, _and_ it loosens your muscles, genius. Now shut up and relax.” she tells him, shifting slightly, before breathing in deeply and letting her own shoulders relax as she breathes back out.

So he does. Well he _tries,_ at least, but he’s so hot that he _can’t_ relax. He’s wet, and his skin is gross and sticky, and he’s so, _so_ uncomfortable. So he opens his eyes to look at MJ and see how she’s doing, but he never ends up saying anything. He gets distracted because she’s laying there, her skin wet and shiny, and _somehow_ she makes all of this look good. Her lips are parted as she slowly runs her slender hand over her neck, then collarbone, then shoulder, and her hair is curling around her face from the steam. He’s hypnotized for a moment, before there’s three knocks on the door, followed by, “We’re ready for you!”

Her eyes flicker open then, and she turns to Peter with a slight, exhausted smile. “Shit, it’s hot in here.”

Peter, looking like a deer caught in headlights, is still trying to recover from the scare.

“Yeah, it is,” he laughs, using his palm to push his hair back as he stands up, and they both put their robes back on.

“The sauna will be worse, so prepare yourself,” she laughs too, knocking her shoulder with his as he they leave the steam room.

“Follow me, please,” the worker smiles, walking in front of them. They walk into a pretty big room now, with reclined seats that face a wall that’s _completely_ windows. It’s green and there’s mountains and Peter and MJ both look at each other in awe as they walk in. It’s minimalistic, simple, there are candles lit everywhere, and they can hear a waterfall and calming music playing from a sound machine. “You can both take a seat there if you’d like, and we’ll get started.”

“Great,” MJ rubs her hands together happily, before sitting down and leaning her head back as advised. Peter does the same, just not as confidently.

Although it _is_ a couples session, he didn’t realize they would be so...close. Their chairs are conjoined, with the only thing separating them being an armrest. But that doesn’t stop their shoulders or legs from bumping.

“Put these on please, and I’ll go whip your face masks up,” the same worker smiles kindly, and they nod as they take the headbands from her. There’s another worker behind them, doing something in the sink.

“I’m gonna look like an idiot,” Peter whispers to MJ, pulling it over his head, and then pushes it up and over his forehead.

“Can’t be much more than you already do,” MJ shrugs, putting hers on and then relaxing back against her seat. _She_ actually looks good in hers, of course, while Peter doesn’t even want to _know_ what he looks like.

It’s nice being able to see her whole face, though—no bangs covering half of it like it usually is.

“Doesn’t this, like, feel weird to you? Having people pamper you and rub weird gooey lotion all over your face and feet?” Peter asks MJ, keeping his voice low.

“My only concern is that I _don’t_ like other people touching me,” she breathes in, staring up at the ceiling. “But oh well.”

He thinks about that, and how much _they_ have had to touch this entire trip. Does she hate that, too?

“Here we are,” the worker tells them, walking back in with two bowls. She stands beside MJ, while the other walks around and stands by Peter, taking one of the bowls and sitting on a stool beside him. They set their bowls down as they pull on some _very_ soft-looking gloves.

“We’re going to gently apply your face masks now,” the girl in front of MJ tells them in a soft, calming voice. “All you need to do is close your eyes and relax, and after we’ve applied those, we will begin your pedicures.”

“Sounds great,” MJ breathes in and closes her eyes, and Peter follows suit.

Peter knows exactly when the girl touches MJ’s face, because MJ instinctually flinches and breathes in. She’s obviously not used to being touched by another human, and he figures that’s because her mom is such a complete jackass. She didn’t even _hug_ her after not seeing her for _three months._

He wonders why she can touch him and not anyone else. Probably because she’s practically being forced to now, but still—it’s comforting. It’s like when a child or a pet hates everyone _except_ you; it’s a weirdly-special feeling.

Back to reality, and a cold, green goo is being massaged onto his face. It felt weird at first, but it’s incredibly soothing and hydrating now, and it’s actually sort of growing on him. After they finish spreading it over their faces, they press cool, fresh cucumber slices on their eyes, and then get out of their seats. It takes a few minutes, but soon there’s warm water pouring into the tub at their feet.

Peter actually has to admit that he’s enjoying himself. He’s got this mask on, a huge, fluffy robe, his feet are being rubbed and his toenails are being filed, and he can feel MJ’s arm touching his, which is...weirdly nice. He didn’t really realize how starved of human contact he’s been—especially since he’s not living at home with May anymore, who _insisted_ on hugging him _every single time_ they saw each other. He took it for granted, and now he misses it.

After about twenty minutes of their feet being scrubbed and massaged and their cuticles being pushed back, the workers ask, “Would either of you like some polish?”

“I’ll take some black and a clear coat on top,” MJ tells them, then blindly nudges Peter’s arm. “You want anything?”

“I’ll have the same actually,” Peter replies, thinking _what the hell, I’m on vacation._ “I’ve kinda always wanted to see what it would be like.”

“Matching toenails for the star-crossed lovers,” she laughs, nudging his shoulder.

“I’m sure your mom will love that,” he laughs too, hearing the clink of the glass nail polish bottles as the ladies come back over and sit down. Then, not long after, he faintly feels the brush on his toes, and he has to resist the urge to pull his feet away. It feels weird, but he eventually gets used to it.

They finish the first coat, let that dry, and then put on the top clear coat.

“While the last coat dries, we’re going to remove your masks, moisturize your faces, and then you’ll be all finished,” one of the women tell them, and then Peter feels them use a soft rag to gently wipe the mask off. After that, they rub some sort of amazingly-hydrating serum in, then a moisturizer, and then remove the cucumbers from their eyes. Peter actually feels like a new person.

He looks down and wiggles his toes, laughing as he sees the black polish on it. “I love it! Thank you guys—it’s awesome!”

MJ sits up and looks down at his, then at hers, smiling. “Yeah, I love it too. Thanks.”

“Our pleasure! Now let’s get you to your sauna,” she smiles, and they walk barefooted through a door, through a room, and through another door. “Right in here. The timer is set for half an hour and will start when you walk in, but if you feel like you’re done before that, feel free to get out—it’s always unlocked. Here’s some cucumber-infused water to keep you hydrated, and there are some refreshments right down there if you want to bring some snacks in with you—most people do.”

“Oh great, that sounds awesome,” MJ thanks her as they both take their cucumber-infused bottles of Voss water, before the woman smiles and walks out, quietly shutting the door.

“Thank god, I was starving,” MJ laughs, tucking her water bottle under her arm and making a beeline to the snack table. Peter follows closely behind her, rubbing his own hungry stomach.

They both grab a plate and load it down with strawberries, granola, blueberries, some almonds, and anything else that they find even _remotely_ appetizing.

“Ready for this?” MJ looks at Peter, as they stand outside of the sauna door.

“I guess,” he shrugs, realistically probably _not_ ready at all. He almost died in the steam room, which is apparently not as bad as a sauna.

She opens the door and they walk in, and are immediately hit with a wave of heat. It’s tolerable, though, since it was sort of chilly in the spa rooms anyway, so it’s fine now.

They both set their food and water down on the bench that surrounds the square room, before taking their robes off and laying it beside them. And then they eat.

“God, that’s refreshing,” Peter takes a sip of his water, before looking down at the bottle. “This stuff would be nice to have in New York on those hot summer days.”

“Yeah, but I doubt either of us could afford it,” she laughs, popping a few blueberries in her mouth. “It’s...getting kind of hot in here.”

“A little,” he replies, feeling sweat threaten to make an appearance against his skin. “My face is _so_ soft right now, though,” he laughs, taking a bite from one of his strawberries. “Seriously, that stuff they used is magic.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” MJ nods, reaching up to touch her smooth skin, too. “And they always use some expensive-ass nail polish too; only comes off if you want it to.”

“It looks a lot better on you, but I like it,” he tilts his head as he looks down at his toes, smiling. Aunt May would love this. He makes a mental note to tell her about it when he _finally_ calls her.

“It suits you, Parker,” she tells him, shrugging. “The only way I could possibly hate you more is if you were one of those annoying guys that has toxic masculinity issues, but you don’t. That’s the only win you’ll ever get from me.”

“Yeah? Well you have none from me,” he tosses a blueberry at her, laughing.

“Idiot,” she laughs too, throwing an almond at him now.

They sit there for fifteen more minutes, and at this point Peter feels like he’s _dying._ He’s sweating profusely, his breath is heavy, and despite already drinking his _full_ water bottle, he _still_ feels dehydrated.

“God, I wish you weren’t here so I could take this annoying bikini off,” MJ gulps, using her arm to sip the sweat from her forehead. “It’s making this ten times worse and uncomfortable.”

“You still could take it off if you wanted,” he shrugs, trying not to crack a smile. “I'm sure I would get over it eventually.”

“Yeah? Maybe I will then,” she shrugs, reaching behind her back. They’re both looking at each other, and they’re doing that thing where neither will break until the other does. He hates it, too, because it’s _always_ him that gives in first.

She’s reaching her hand around her back to untie, not giving in.

“Fine! Fine,” he breathes out, leaning back against the wall. She laughs, eating her last two blueberries carelessly. “Would you have actually done it if I hadn’t stopped you?”

“Of course I would,” she shrugs, shutting her eyes and trying to relax. Peter really doubts that, but he doesn’t press the matter any further.

“Can’t we just get out now? I mean, the lady said we could if we wanted, right?” he groans, using his robe to dab the sweat from his chest.

“We have ten minutes left, Peter—we can do it.”

And they do, but they’re completely miserable for the rest of those achingly-slow ten minutes.

“Thank _god,”_ Peter groans, finally breathing in cool, fresh air. MJ’s leaning against the wall _chugging_ another bottle of water, trying to rehydrate.

“Good session?” the worker from earlier peaks in, smiling.

“It did it’s job, that’s for sure,” MJ laughs, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Great! You guys look worn out, so that means it’s the _perfect_ time for that romantic couples massage, yeah?” she smiles, and Peter rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Feel free to shower off, and then you can step through that door right there to your left for your last treatment.”

“Thank you,” Peter and MJ both reply in unison, smiling as she quietly shuts the door.

So they take turns showering off then, in a shower room in the corner. MJ’s already wearing a bathing suit so _she_ doesn’t care if the door’s open, but Peter makes _sure_ to close it on his turn since he has to actually get naked.

“I’m nervous for this kinda,” he laughs awkwardly, toweling off his hair before slipping his robe back on. “Sitting there for _two hours_ while strangers rub all over your body. It’s just weird.”

“Don’t act like you won’t love it, creep,” she nudges him, before they walk into the next room. It’s low lit, save for the massive amounts of candles around and the fireplace burning romantically in the back of the room. It smells like rose petals, and he quickly realizes that it’s probably because there _is_ rose petals all over the floor. Peter’s mouth drops.

“Welcome to your couples massage,” they hear a soft voice, and look up to see two women there waiting for them. “Are you ready to begin?”

“We are,” MJ nods, shedding her robe and hanging it up on the back of the door.

“You can lay down right here,” the worker tells them with a smile, gesturing towards the white, plush cushions they’re meant to lay on. Peter nervously takes his robe off, trying not to feel _too_ uncomfortable in just his boxers.

MJ lays down first, and Peter right after. Once they end up getting in position, they’re both uncomfortably close with the other. Peter gulps anxiously.

“Now we’re going to ask you to hold hands, and look into each other’s eyes as we begin,” the woman practically whispers then, trying to surround them with a calm setting. “Gazes between romantic partners has been proven to increase the love connection between them.”

“Oh...great,” MJ replies, trying to sound enthusiastic but coming up flat. As the women lather the aromatherapy oils into their hands, MJ grabs Peter’s hand in hers, and looks in his terrified eyes. He widens them, silently asking, “do we have to?”

She then just mouths, “Aunt Kyra’s gonna call and figure out we didn’t do it. Get over it.”

He just sighs and tries to relax, looking into her eyes. It’s kind of funny at first, but he’s pretty sure it’s only because he’s immensely uncomfortable.

“Here we go,” the woman tells them, before Peter feels a pair of soft, warm hands press into his back. He sighs then, now not even having a choice in relaxing; it’s impossible to _not._

“Did you want this untied or left on?” The worker asks, and Peter opens his eyes to see what they mean.

“Untied is fine,” MJ replies, as the masseuse gently pulls on the string of her bikini, and the knot comes undone. She doesn’t take it fully off, but her back is now bare, and if she sat up... “Told you I’d take it off.”

He just laughs and rolls his eyes, trying not to show how squeamish this all makes him. They’re still holding hands, too, and even keep eye contact on and off for a little over five minutes when they know the women are watching. It’s weirdly intimate—even with MJ—and something in his stomach is doing weird flips halfway through. Finally they get through it (and Peter thanks God he doesn’t have to explore more into that feeling) when MJ ends up fluttering her eyes closed. So Peter closes his too.

Their backs get massaged slowly, deeply, relaxingly. And Peter is in a deep state of calmness before he hears it the first time. He opens his eyes, because he’s pretty certain he...heard MJ moan. It was low and soft, but still unmistakably a moan. From MJ. A moan from MJ.

He sees her there, her lips parted, her eyebrows furrowed, and her breathing heavy. She even squeezes Peter’s hand slightly when the masseuse presses into a section at the base of her back. He gulps.

Yes, this all feels great, but he guesses he’s been too distracted to actually... _enjoy_ it like MJ is.

“Sexual pleasure is a natural way many females react to our couples massage,” the worker tells Peter when noticing him staring curiously. He has no idea how to react to any of this. “She has high amounts of stress set in her shoulders and back, and the release of that—paired with our specially formulated massage oil—helps boost the female libido.”

His first thought is _these people must not know we’re only nineteen and don’t need libido-boosting massages since we’re still hormonal teenagers,_ and then his second thought is _what the hell, is this happening?_

“I didn’t even know I needed a boosting,” MJ laughs, her eyes still closed.

“Most women don’t,” her masseuse laughs, and Peter swallows thickly again.

His massage is great and relaxing, yeah, but seeing MJ like this—sweaty and moaning and turned on and clutching his hand—is doing more to him, to his body, than the woman massaging him is. And he _hates_ it. He _also_ hates that, while MJ is so completely confident in her sexuality and entirely comfortable showing it, _he_ can’t even _look_ at her without being embarrassed. That’s mostly because he’s getting turned on by watching his arch enemy being turned on, but still. As guilty as it makes him feel, all that’s going through his mind right now, on a loop, is: _she could be wet right now._ And he can’t think about one thing past that point.

Not long after that, he turns his head to the other side and breaks his hand away from MJ’s. It’s all too overwhelming, and he feels trapped because he knows they have around half an hour left, and he has nothing to do but wait and stew in his guilty thoughts.

If he’s honest with himself, he can see why this would be nice and fun as an actual couple. But _now?_ In this situation? It’s traumatizing, and it’s because he knows what he’s feeling —and thinking—is wrong. It was one thing to get turned on when she was actually _on_ him and _touching_ him, but the fact that he was getting turned on solely because _she_ was turned on felt...different, somehow. He wishes he could just turn off his thoughts for _once_ and actually enjoy something, but it feels impossible.

The timer dings after what feels like an _eternity_ later, and he couldn’t be more relieved that this spa day is finally done and over with. He’s just ready to leave, and never think about this or the things he was feeling ever again.

“Woman to woman, you guys are awesome,” MJ laughs, tying her bikini in the back before giving them fist bumps. Peter still wants to die.

“Thanks, guys, that really was great,” he laughs nervously, walking over to grab his robe, and then toss MJ’s at her.

They walk back through the giant maze-like building and find their dressing rooms, putting their real clothes back on finally.

“That was crazy,” she laughs, pulling her shirt on over her head. Peter doesn’t say anything (mostly because he _can’t)_ and he’s just ashamed of himself. He hates her, but even he can’t deny the physical attraction he has to her. And it’s driving him crazy. “How did you like it?”

“It was nice,” he nods, finishing getting dressed and waiting for her. She stops and looks at him, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, so now the biggest rambling idiot in the whole world can only manage to spit out three syllables?” she fully turns then, crossing her arms. “Is this about the talk of my libido in there? Because that’s a perfectly natural thing, you know.”

“No, it’s not about that,” he replies, rolling his eyes. Lie. “I’m just...tired.”

“Good, because your uncomfortability in that _still_ wouldn’t make up for the multiple boners you’ve had on this trip,” she shakes her head, pushing the door open.

Okay, he hates her again.

He trails behind her while she leads the way once again. They go in the spa’s products shop, and MJ ends up purchasing a face mask and moisturizer and adds it to her aunt’s ever-growing tab, before they _finally_ get to leave.

“I feel like a new person,” MJ sighs, sliding into the back of the rental car. “That was so relaxing.”

“Yeah, it was,” Peter nods, but _he’s_ actually incredibly tense and _not_ relaxed whatsoever. He feels MJ glaring at him, but he just turns his head and stares out the window, trying to ignore her.

He can’t even figure out _why_ he’s acting like such a jerk to her, but he can’t stop. He’s just embarrassed about how he was feeling, and he doesn’t know how to react to it, so it comes out in anger towards _her_ like he’s a nine year old that has no idea how to deal with is feelings.

Not that he has feelings for _her_ or anything; it was just an example.

“Let’s go get dressed,” MJ tells him and opens her door as _soon_ as the driver parks, and Peter takes in a long, deep breath, before getting out himself. He feels too guilty and awful to even _fake_ to be happy right now, and he knows this is one of the times MJ needs him to fake it the most since he’s about to meet her cousins, too. He knows he has to force himself to do what he came here to do.

He walks behind her, and he can hear people talking in some of the bungalows as they pass. He’s pretty sure her cousins are awake now.

“Just to let you know, Abby is sort of...a flirt. With everyone; guys, girls, people with boyfriends, people with girlfriends. _Everyone.”_ MJ sighs, walking out of the bathroom after changing into a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt. “So don’t be surprised when —not _if_ —she tries something with you. Because she will.”

“Her own cousin’s boyfriend?” Peter asks, confused.

“Yeah, she even pulled something on Jennifer’s boyfriend a few years ago,” MJ tells her, shaking her head. “There was a huge fight—it was bad. And obviously I believe in women’s sexual liberation and that they can dress and have sex with anyone they want any time they want, but it gets fucked up when she purposely becomes a homewrecker just because she can.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Peter replies, sitting down on the bed while MJ digs through her suitcase for her shoes. She looks up at him, still noticing him acting off, but she stays silent as she slips her shoes on. He just sits there awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Ready?” MJ asks, walking past him to the door, opening it.

“Mhmm,” he nods, standing up and making his way over. But she slams the door right before he gets to it, and crosses her arms.

“Too bad,” she tells him, staring him down. “We aren’t leaving until you tell me _why_ you’re acting so weird and awkward. Well, more than usual.”

“What? I’m not,” he scoffs, reaching to open the door again. But she puts her hand back on it, shutting it again. He groans and rubs the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Sure you aren’t, Peter,” she laughs bitterly, crossing her arms again. “You’re being quiet for once, you’re standoffish, and you aren’t cracking one of your god awful jokes every three seconds. Just tell me what’s going on with you before I have to start guessing.”

“MJ, seriously, there’s nothi-” he starts, but she interrupts.

“First guess: that food you ate was bad, and your stomach is _seriously_ messed up right now. Second guess: you were majorly crushing on that masseuse, and her hands on you were _really_ getting you going, and you haven’t recovered since. Third guess: me moaning and getting all sexually frustrated made your tiny, immature brain incredibly uncomfortable, and you _just can’t_ look at me the same. Fourth guess: You t-” she starts, trying to rack her brain for more ideas.

“God, will you shut up?” he breathes in, walking past her and pushing his hair back in frustration. “Seriously, can you _ever_ just be quiet?”

“No, and I think I’ve made that obvious,” she shrugs, turning to look at him. “Now spill.”

“I can’t tell you,” he breathes out, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting his face in his hands. “I can’t say it out loud.”

“Jesus, Peter, did you kill someone?” she asks, walking over to him and crouching down. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Don’t be nice to me to—I’m evil,” he breathes out, the guilt eating him alive.

“It can’t be _that_ bad, Parker, seriously,” she sits beside him on the bed, awkwardly patting his back to comfort him. She’s not very good at it, but she’s trying, at least. “Just tell me; no judgement here. Unless it’s some nerd thing, but t-”

“I got super attracted to you and all, like, turned on and stuff when you were moaning from the massage,” he breathes out, running every word together so fast that it’s almost completely unintelligible. “And I feel really, really awful about it.”

“So...it made you hot to see me turned on, and _that’s_ what you’re upset about it?” she asks, and Peter groans and falls back on the bed, blushing. He’s waiting for her to yell at him, and call him disgusting, but she doesn’t. She starts laughing. “Are you just mad it wasn’t _you_ making me moan?”

“Are you seriously making a joke right now? I’m awful!” he replies in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air.

“You think I care that much, Peter?” she laughs, pushing him playfully. “It’s an involuntary response your body has. You see someone horny, your body thinks you’re about to get it on, so you get wood. It’s simple biology. I mean, it’s embarrassing for you, I get that, but it’s a natural response to seeing someone as hot and beautiful as myself all sweaty and moany. How could I blame you?”

“Shut up,” he laughs, knocking her elbow with his. He’s embarrassed that they’re even _talking_ about this, but telling her about it actually made him feel...surprisingly better. “So you aren’t mad then?”

“No, I’m not _mad._ And honestly, you made a _way_ bigger deal out of it than you should have. I seriously thought you witnessed a murder or something. Or contributed to one, even.” she pushes him with a laugh, standing up and shaking her head.

“It was just humiliating, okay?” he sighs, standing up too.

“It’s not like that boner you had didn’t make me feel a little something either,” she replies, walking towards the door.

“What?” Peter asks, standing completely still.

“Huh?” she replies, standing at the door.

“MJ, you just said-” he starts, his mind racing a million miles a second. Did he imagine that?

“What, Peter? I didn’t even say anything. You’re seriously going insane,” she laughs, shaking her head in amusement. He _knows_ he heard her right, and he knows that she _wanted_ him to hear her right, just so she could turn around and act like nothing happened. She never fails to make him feel crazy. “Now are we going or what? You have some of my cousins to meet.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighs in exasperation, walking to the door.

“God, I _knew_ you were attracted to me,” she sighs contently, shaking her head as they walk side-by-side down the dock. “How would you rate this attraction to me on a scale from cute to sexy? I personally consider myself sexy, but-”

“Michelle! How’s my favorite NYU student?” her cousin asks, and he assumes it’s Jennifer since they look around the same age.

“Smart and interesting as always,” MJ shrugs, nudging Peter before putting her arm around him. “And this is my slightly-less smart and interesting boyfriend, Peter. Peter, this is my cousin Jennifer.”

“Nice to meet you!” Jennifer smiles, then lifts her sunglasses and whispers to MJ, “ _he’s cute!”_ as if he isn’t right there. But she’s extremely pretty, so it makes him feel good anyway.

“Nice to meet you too,” he laughs and nods, trying not to be awkward; he feels like he always is when he’s meeting new people. Or any time he’s talking to anyone, really.

Just then her boyfriend walks out and up next to her, putting his hand on her waist. She instinctually leans into him, and their hands intertwine effortlessly. MJ seems to take notice of how _actual_ couples act around each other, so she pulls Peter closer.

“Michelle, Peter, this is Jordan—my boyfriend from Princeton,” she tells them, looking up at him with an admiring smile. He’s towering over all of them—including MJ, who is a giant herself—and he’s reaching his hand out to shake theirs.

“Great to meet you guys,” he smiles, and they both shake his hand.

“So Mom says you and Peter have been together since November? We saw each other at Christmas and you didn’t even _tell_ me!” Jennifer laughs, looking at MJ incredulously. “What’s that about?”

“We were just sort of... _seeing_ each other then—nothing serious. But it’s been, like, five months now so I figured it was time.” MJ replies, shrugging it off. “Where’s the crazy one?”

“She’s still asleep,” Jennifer laughs, still looking tired herself—despite the fact that it’s already half past three. “We got in super late last night. But _you_ guys, on the other hand, look amazing. I’ve never seen you so...glowing, Michelle. Must be all the sex you’re having, yeah?”

Peter tries to keep his mouth from dropping, but he can’t. This family is _way_ too open about that sort of thing. Not that _May_ isn’t, but not even May —the poster-parent-figure for sex-ed and openness on everything—would say something so blunt and crude. _Especially_ to someone they don’t know. He sees where MJ gets it now—it must run in the family.

“That _and_ the fact that we just got back from our spa day,” MJ tells her, not fazed in the least by her comment. Peter forces the look of shock off his face, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He feels MJ turn and look at him, before she finds his hand with hers, laces their fingers together, and squeezes gently. He lets out a breath.

“God, that sounds amazing,” Jennifer sighs, leaning her head against her boyfriends chest. “We’ll have to do that before we leave. Now let’s go get Abby up—she’ll sleep forever if no one wakes her.”

“Right behind you,” MJ nods at them, before they turn around and walk down the dock. MJ and Peter do too, just slightly slower.

“You good?” MJ asks him, actually sounding...concerned. Maybe he’s just imagining it.

“Yeah. Why? I mean, why do you think I’m _not_ good?” he asks, but he feels her all-knowing eyes boring into him.

“I just saw you doing that thing where you rub your neck,” she shrugs, only now pulling her hand from his as her cousin disappears from view, walking into the other cousin’s bungalow. “I know you always do that when you’re nervous or whatever.”

He sort of can’t even believe she’s noticed that about him; mostly because he himself is just now realizing that he really _does_ do that. It’s just a nervous tick, a reflex, a habit. But _she_ noticed it.

“Oh,” he replies, accidentally almost reaching up to do it _again_ without even realizing it, because this conversation is _also_ making him nervous. “I’m just nervous meeting new people, I guess. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” she knocks his shoulder, making sure.

“Yeah,” he nods, laughing a little. “I’m good.”

“Okay, well try and hold onto that mindset then,” she breathes in, before they walk into the other sisters bungalow. Jennifer’s already shaking Abby in her bed, waking her up.

The three of them look decently similar; he can tell they’re related, but MJ’s cousins have darker skin and they look more like their mom while MJ looks more like _her_ mom.

“Is there a reason the whole island is in my bedroom right now?” Abby pushes Jennifer off and sits up, rubbing her eyes. Then she spots Peter there beside MJ, looking him up and down with a tilt of her head. “Who’s this?”

“Peter—my boyfriend,” MJ tells her, putting her arm around him territorially.

“Nice to meet you, Peter,” she smiles, pushing herself up with her hands. Peter gulps.

“Put on a shirt,” Jennifer groans, grabbing one from her suitcase and tossing it at her. All she’s wearing is a silk slip, which is _barely_ covering anything.

“If I would have known you were all going to burst in here I would have left it on last night,” she shrugs, pulling it on over her head. Jennifer crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” She asks, pushing her hair back and tying it up in a bun.

“Whatever you guys wanna do is fine with us. We’ve been hiking, to a spa, played tennis, swam all day. We’re cool doing anything,” MJ tells them, as Peter puts his arm around her waist. There’s something about her presence that keeps him calm.

“I vote we day drink and lay on the sand for the rest of the day,” Abby shrugs, getting out of bed and stretching.

“You definitely do take after mom,” Jennifer sighs under her breath, “Tennis sounds fun, though. Why don’t you get ready and we’ll meet you at the tennis courts? Mom left us all tennis outfits in our rooms, so I figure we may as well put them to good use.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Abby tells them, waving them off as she reaches in the shower to turn the water on.

So the four of them funnel out and then go to their separate ways to get dressed in tennis-appropriate outfits.

“So what do you think?” MJ asks him, before tossing him his solid-white tennis clothes from the stack that Kyra set there for them yesterday. “About my cousins, I mean.”

“Um,” Peter shrugs, pulling his shirt off. “I don’t know. They’re nice, I guess.”

“Abby is _always_ up to something,” MJ tells him, stripping off her own clothes to put on her tennis outfit. “And if she tricks you into thinking she’s _not_ up to something, that means she’s up to something that’s even worse than her normal antics—which are bad enough by themselves.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks, pulling on his shorts. He’s still weirded out that they’re comfortable changing in front of each other now.

“Because I saw the way she was looking at you,” MJ replies, glancing up at him. “And for whatever reason, she’s attracted to you. But I _did_ say she’s a pretty big horndog, so that explains the reason she was even looking at _you_ in the first place. She’s going to try something.”

“Oh, I see,” he nods, looking at her with a teasing smile. “You’re worried I’m gonna want her and you’re jealous.”

“Not in a million—no, a _billion_ —years,” she laughs, pulling her shirt over her head. “I just want to make sure you don’t get caught screwing my cousin at my aunt’s wedding. We _are_ supposed to be in love, so if you ruin that now I’ll kill you. We’re in too deep now to just throw it away.”

“Of course I wouldn’t do that,” he scoffs, plopping down on the bed. “But would you be jealous if I did?”

“Shut up, Peter,” she groans, reaching over and hitting him with a pillow. He pulls it from her, but she let’s go just in time so she doesn’t face plant against the bed. She’s always quicker than him.

“You still aren’t denying it,” he shrugs his shoulders proudly, trying not to give in and laugh. But then she reaches over and shoves him off the bed.

“Since you’re an actual baby and have to get confirmation on everything you say, then here: I’m not at all jealous of the hypothetical scenario where you and Abby hook up,” she tells him as he groans and sits up, throwing a pillow at her.

“Jesus, MJ,” he rubs his hand over his elbow, sighing. “That’s gonna bruise.”

“Hope so,” she turns to him and smiles, and he rolls his eyes. “Ready?”

“I guess,” he replies, slumping his shoulders and following her.

“God, I wish I didn’t have to go out and socialize with my crazy ass family right now. I’m not in the mood,” MJ sighs as they walk out, now lowering her voice. “Not that I literally _ever_ am, but still. Seeing them twice a year is awful enough.”

He makes a mental note to dive further into that topic at a later time, but right now MJ’s aunt is making her way towards them on the dock.

“Oh, you both look so good! The spa told me everything went _great!”_ she exclaims, putting a hand on both of their shoulders.

“Yeah, it was so relaxing. And romantic,” MJ gushes, grabbing Peter’s hand again and looking at him. “Right, Peter?”

“Of course,” he nods, looking at her too with a smile. “Thanks so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” she laughs, waving them off. “I’m glad you guys had fun! So have you talked to your cousins yet? I thought I heard them up and about.”

“Yeah, we’re actually about to go play tennis with them,” Michelle nods, following her aunt down the dock. “Jennifer and her boyfriend are getting ready now, but Abby just woke up so I assume she’ll take longer.”

“Most likely,” Kyra laughs, before Jennifer and Jordan stumble out of their bungalow wiping their mouths and messily fixing their clothes.

“Oh, hi mom,” Jennifer laughs, trying to compose herself.

“Hi baby,” her mom tells her, pulling her in for a hug. Jennifer looks at MJ and Peter with a roll of her eyes and a laugh, before their hug ends and they pull back. “I’ve missed you! How was your midterms?”

“Great,” Jennifer shrugs proudly, smiling. “Currently all A-pluses!”

“Of course,” her mom laughs, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “And it’s great to see you, Jordan!”

“Yeah, Miss Kyra, you too,” he nods and smiles, pulling her in for a hug.

“Well I won’t hold you guys back from fun any longer,” Kyra laughs, and just then MJ’s mom walks out of her bungalow, coming towards them. “Me and your aunt are going to hit the bar while you four play a few rounds.”

“Did someone say bar?” Abby now steps out, joining the ever-growing group. She’s wearing her tennis outfit too, “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

“Me and your _aunt_ are hitting the bar, Abby, and _you’re_ playing tennis with your sister and cousin,” Kyra tells her, giving her a hug. Abby groans and all but pushes her off in annoyance.

“You two get more and more beautiful every time I see you,” MJ’s mom hugs Jennifer, kissing her on the cheek. All this time, Peter thought she was incapable of love and affection, but he was wrong. She _is_ capable of it, just not towards MJ. “Is Princeton as wonderful as you hoped?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jennifer gushes to her, and MJ’s mom is smiling at her, and listening to her, and hugging her. MJ looks down at the dock beneath her, shifting her feet uncomfortably. Peter squeezes her hand. “It’s all so...Ivy League, you know? It’s everything I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid.”

“You’ve always been smart, Jenn! I’ve been trying to tell Michelle she should drop NYU and do something better, but she never listens to me. And do you see these two Michelle? All I’m asking is for a few swipes of mascara, foundation, and some lip gloss. It would do wonders for you. Is it really that hard?” She looks at her and laughs a little, like it’s a lighthearted joke. Right in front of everyone. Peter wants to push her off this dock, because everyone is now staring at MJ and _no one_ is saying anything.

“She shouldn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,” Peter smiles at her mom, but only to spite her. Both of MJ’s cousins eyes widen, and their mouths practically fall open. How could they sit there and not say something? “Who’s ready to play?”

So they all head down the dock and over to the tennis courts, MJ’s mom and aunt going their separate ways so they can watch from the bar. He can feel her mom giving him dirty looks, but he couldn’t care less.

Peter looks at MJ to make sure she’s okay, and she just nods and gives a slight smile in response, grabbing her tennis racket. She’s not okay, but he can’t blame her, either.

Peter and MJ are horrendous at the game—losing _every single time_ —so Peter just decides to give up his spot to Abby and let her fully play instead of only playing as an alternate.

So he sits down on the bench and watches, not really paying attention at all. He just fully uses this time to think over everything going on right now, including MJ’s cousins, her mom, and even their fake relationship. It’s all overwhelming.

“It’s about time to start getting cleaned up for dinner,” MJ’s mom walks up to them, not even _daring_ to look at Peter. He never thought he could like someone as much as he dislikes her. “Everyone be out and ready at seven, please.”

MJ jogs off the court and up to Peter, and he hands his water bottle up to her. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m not drinking from a water bottle you put your mouth on,” she laughs a little, plopping down on the bench beside him and dabbing the sweat from her forehead. He can tell she’s still off, but she’s trying. “That’s disgusting.”

“We’ve literally kissed, like, five times,” Peter argues, confused. “That’s way worse.”

“Making sure to keep count so you can put it in your diary when you get back home?” MJ nudges him, grinning.

“Obviously,” he replies with an eye roll, before shoving the water bottle into her hands. “Now stop being a baby and drink some water right now before you pass out.”

“Have I ever told you that it turns me on when you boss me around like that?” she replies, before finally grabbing the bottle and gulping it down. He rolls his eyes again.

He sits there and waits for MJ to rehydrate, trying to avoid looking at the general vicinity where Jennifer and Jordan are making out on the tennis court. Abby’s already walking on the dock next to her mom, both of them making their way back to their rooms.

“Ready to get ready?” MJ asks, standing up and looking down at him.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Peter nods, following behind her.

“So damn gross,” she sighs, glancing over at them _still_ making out with a shake of her head.

“Uncomfortable, maybe, but I don’t think there’s anything gross about love and affection,” Peter argues, shrugging. “It’s kinda sweet, you know?”

“You only think that because _you_ are gross too, Parker,” she laughs, elbowing him.

“Okay, well _you_ are the one actually making me do that same exact stuff in public, so you can’t talk,” he retorts, not backing down.

“That’s only because we're putting on a show, dummy,” she sighs, opening the door to their bungalow. “I would never actually _want_ to make out with someone in public. It’s weird.”

“I’m not saying just in public in general, just...whenever it feels right. And, like, feeling like you’re the only two people there,” he replies, leaning against the wall while she grabs things from her suitcase. “I don’t know, it’s romantic.”

“Yeah, yeah, Romeo, it’s time for me to take a shower so beat it,” she replies, walking past him to the shower to get the water warm.

“Fine,” he sighs, walking out the back door and doing his now-daily evening routine where he plops down on the chair on their porch, and watches the sunset. It’s always slightly different every night; sometimes it’s pink, sometimes it’s orange, sometimes it’s purple. It never fails to amaze him, though.

He hears the water turn off twenty minutes in, and only a few minutes later he hears voices in the room. He’s confused for a second, before he recognizes her mom’s voice.

“I brought this makeup for you to use tonight,” he hears her demand to MJ, “I want you to wear it. You can pull this shit around your boyfriend all you want, but you _won’t_ embarrass me around your family. Especially when your cousins actually know how to act and dress. Just do one thing right for once, Michelle. That’s all I’m asking, and it’s not much.”

He’s not sure if MJ replies or not, but it’s quiet if so, because he never heard anything. His heart is pounding in his chest in anger. He gets out of the chair and is about to burst into the room and _really_ yell at her mom, but he thinks of MJ before he does. That would only make it all worse for her, and he doesn’t want that.

He stands at the door and gathers his thoughts, trying to think of what he _can_ do. During this, he hears the front door shut and her mom leave. He clears his head and calms himself down, before knocking on the door.

“Can I come in? I have to get ready too, you know,” he laughs a little, pressing his forehead to the door. He tries to joke, because he knows that MJ _hates_ pity.

“You can come in,” she tells him, so he opens the door and steps inside.

MJ’s there in the bathroom, leaning over the counter as she puts on her mom’s makeup. Her hair is neatly tucked back with bobby pins, too, which _also_ looks like her mother’s doing.

“You’re putting on makeup?” Peter asks, standing in the doorway as she applies mascara in the mirror. “I thought you weren’t trying to impress your mom anymore.”

“Just...shut up, Peter,” she sighs, not even glancing up to look at him.

“MJ, you don’t have to do that,” he tells her more firmly, walking up to stand beside her. “Your family is all about looks and all about appearances, but you aren’t. There’s nothing wrong with that if that’s what you want.”

“What if I do _want_ this, Peter? What if I _want_ to put on makeup, and I _want_ to fix my hair?” she turns to him, clenching her fists at her sides. He hates seeing her like this; scared, tired, upset, and confused about what she could ever do to make her family accept her.

“Then you _should_ do that if you want. And you know I’d support you,” he replies softly, knowing that’s what she needs right now. Someone who can tell her they accept her for who she is, and can talk to her like she’s a human they respect. “But don’t do it for them. Not for people like that, who are so goddamn shallow that they don’t care about anything or anyone beyond that. You’re better than that, and you’re better than them. You don’t need their approval. If you do this —or god, if you do _anything_ —do it for yourself.”

She looks at him then likes she’s on the verge of tears, and he feels pain himself just seeing her this way. She’s torn, and tormented, and hurt.

“I’ll close the door so you can shower, but I have to finish getting ready,” she breathes out, her expression suddenly changing, her body language changing. She’s being standoffish and guarded like she always gets when they talk about something serious; especially if it’s about her family.

He sighs as she shuts the door on him, closing his eyes and thinking it over. Her mom is getting exactly what she wants: beating MJ down until she complies to what she expects from her, what she wants from her. He hates even having to watch it.

He shakes it all off and takes his shower, barely even caring that MJ is right next door and could walk out at any time. He’s way too upset to worry about something so stupid, plus he’s pretty sure she’s too mad at him to even _try_ to embarrass him, which takes a lot.

He towels off and gets dressed after he’s finished, before hesitating his fist against the door, and then knocking. He never knows how she’s going to react, and it’s kind of scary sometimes to even have to guess.

“Hey, you ready?” he asks softly against the door, lowering his fist down to his side. He hears her sniffling a little, take in a breath, hesitate another few seconds, and then she opens the door.

Her facial expression is like stone, and if it weren’t for her slightly-puffier-than-usual eyes, he probably would have thought he imagined the sniffling a few seconds ago.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she nods, walking past him. He knows she’s embarrassed about him seeing her cry, and he wishes he didn’t have to be a reason that she’s feeling even _worse_ right now.

Although he doesn’t know if he should or not, he ends up stopping at the door and asking her, “are you okay?”

“I’m…fine,” she breathes out, still trying to compose herself from earlier. “I just don’t want to do this. I don’t want to face any of them, and I don’t want to go.”

“Then...let’s not,” Peter suggests, and she turns and looks at him, narrowing her eyes. “Seriously, let’s bail. I’ll just say I’m not feeling great, and voila—we’re free. Besides, I’m pretty sure they all hate me anyway, so I’ll take all the blame.”

“Really?” she laughs a little, the look of relief flooding her face. He smiles too, just happy to see _her_ happy.

“Yeah, of course,” he laughs, shrugging. “We haven’t even _looked_ at the food and snacks in our fridge, so I’m sure we could find something. And we could just relax and play some card games or something.”

“She’ll kill us,” MJ warns him, but she’s still smiling.

“Two against one,” he grins, falling down against the bed. “Give me your phone so I can call her.”

“Here,” she hands it to him, already having found her contact number. All he has to press is one button.

“Okay, close the blinds and lock the doors so she can’t, like, burst in or something,” he laughs, before taking a nervous breath and pressing the dial button.

MJ nods and does it hurriedly, before sitting on the bed beside him, anxiously waiting to hear her mom’s response.

“Michelle? Hurry up and get down here—everyone’s waiting,” her mom sighs into the phone impatiently, and Peter can picture the eye roll she just made in his head.

“Miss Jones? It’s actually Peter,” he tells her, and MJ holds her hand over her mouth so she doesn’t audibly laugh. And then Peter, already smiling, has to look away from her so _he_ doesn’t laugh. “I’m not feeling too well, so me and MJ aren’t going to make it to dinner. Maybe tomorrow night—sorry!”

“Oh really? What _kind_ of sick?” her mom questions him, very obviously not believing it. Not like he _expected_ her too, but still.

“Does it matter? Sick is sick, right?” he replies, and MJ actually buries her entire face into a pillow laughing. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow. Have a great night!”

She tries to say something else, sounding furious, but he just hangs up.

“God, she doesn’t give up, does she?” he laughs, shaking his head and tossing the phone on the other side of the bed.

“She’s gonna kill us,” MJ sits up, _still_ laughing. They both keep laughing, actually, until they hear her mom and aunt fighting on the dock, and they both instinctually dive onto the floor to hide.

“They probably just want some alone time, sissy, so let’s just leave them alone!” MJ’s aunt defends them, sighing.

“I don’t care! This is a _family_ vacation—she’s going to spend time with her family!” her mom argues with her, very clearly pissed off. MJ’s trying not to laugh again.

“Get over yourself,” her aunt retorts in annoyance, sighing. “You’ve been a bitch this entire trip; let something go for once. At least _they_ are deciding to have fun.”

Peter and MJ both look at each other then, widening their eyes in disbelief.

“Now let’s go eat some food and leave them alone,” her aunt replies, now even sterner than before.

They hear her mom grumbling under her breath, but she never comes up to their door and yells at them like they’re sure she intended to. Eventually, when they’re sure the coast is clear, they stand up and finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

“God, did you hear Kyra? That was crazy,” MJ laughs, shaking her head. “I’ve never heard her talk like that before.”

“It was pretty awesome if you ask me,” Peter laughs with her, still in disbelief, too. “I’m hungry. Are you?”

“Dumb question—I’m always hungry,” she tells him, already making her way over to their mini-kitchen. First she opens their refrigerator, tosses him a soda, and then names off food. “Okay, there’s...pre-made salads, yogurt, grapes, hummus, and…” she hesitates, picking something up, “Some fancy cheese. God, these are her ideas of “snacks”?” MJ groans, before making her way to the cabinets.

“Okay, up here there’s trail mix, almonds, cheerios, dried pineapple, and...jackpot. Popcorn and potato chips.”

“Oh, thank god,” Peter laughs, walking over to help.

Ten minutes later they’re both on the floor, surrounded by the food that made the cut: popcorn, chips, cheese, hummus, dried fruit, and grapes. They’re stuffing their faces now, and still laughing about the phone call, and her aunt practically chewing her mom out. It’s something neither of them will ever forget.

“Hey, we should try out that new face mask I bought,” MJ stands up, walking over to where she had tossed the bag on the bed, looking through it. “Well, that Kyra bought.”

“Aren’t you supposed to, like, wait before you do another face mask?” Peter asks, and MJ shrugs, untwisted to lid and smelling it.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she tells him, making her way to the bathroom. “I doubt it’ll matter. Plus it’s a different kind: this one’s green tea and ginseng.”

“Sure, yeah, let’s do it,” he agrees, pulling himself up to his feet and following her. They wash their hands, and then end up rubbing the bright-green face masks all over their skin in the mirror.

“Okay, this one stays on for twenty minutes,” she tells him, both of them laughing a little when they see each other with them on. “I think I’ll take you up on that card game offer now.”

“Get ready to lose,” he replies, evilly rubbing his hands together while she gets the deck from her bag.

“Shut up, Peter, you know I’m gonna win _easily,”_ she rolls her eyes, now sitting cross-legged again in front of him. “So what are we playing? Not like it matters—I’ll win regardless. But still, anything in mind? ”

“War,” her tells her, shrugging. He only picked that one because he and Ned used to play _all_ the time, and he _always_ won somehow. Ned was convinced he cheated.

“Fine,” she replies, dealing out the deck to each of them. He watches her now as she does it; her hair pulled back, her green facemask on, her elbow propped on her upright knee.

He keeps getting distracted.

“Ready?” she asks, gripping her deck of cards with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” he replies confidently, both of them flipping their cards.

MJ wins. The first, second, _and_ third time, actually, and he now sees how Ned feels. He even stooped low enough to call her a cheater, which she just found extremely funny.

He wins the forth time though, and he’s convinced his luck is _finally_ changing, before he loses the fifth round shortly after that revelation. And then the sixth. After she wins the seventh, he announces that he’s done, and the game is “ _just_ about luck, anyway.”

“We haven’t even turned this TV on once,” MJ tells him, now helping Peter settle all of the food onto the end of the bed after washing their face masks off.

“Actually, speaking of TV,” Peter sits up slightly, turning to look at her on the other side of the bed. “I’ve been thinking—did you ever see that old movie ‘The Shining’? Where that guy tries to kill his wife and kid in that big, like, ski lodge thing? You know, ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’?”

“I mean, that’s _definitely_ a movie and not a TV show, but yeah, I’ve seen it,” MJ replies, shrugging. “Why?”

“Okay, so you know when Mister Hallorann tells Danny that he has the shine? That only certain, special people have it, and they have, like, telepathy and clairvoyance and all that? And they see things and know things that other people don’t?” Peter tells her, and she looks confused, but nods anyway.

“I think...okay, don’t make fun of me, but...I think you have the shine,” he tells her, and he can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “Seriously, MJ!”

“You know that’s just a movie, right? Well, book _and_ movie, but still. Both fictional media,” she shrugs, pushing his shoulder.

“I know,” he sighs, laying back down.

“Okay, why do you think I have that?” She asks, feeling bad for making fun. “Do you wanna tell me or just leave me hanging?”

“Well maybe it’s not like in the actual movie; maybe you can’t actually, like, read people’s minds, but it’s still something. I just feel like...you see more, and you know more. Like there’s no point in lying to you, because I _know_ you know when I’m lying to you.”

“You’re also just an extremely awful liar,” she laughs, and he sits up again, trying to fully explain.

“I know, but it’s more than that,” he sighs, trying to think of how else he could describe it. “Sometimes when we’re talking or something, you just...I don’t know, I feel like you’re looking into my soul or something. And maybe you don’t even realize you _are_ doing it, or maybe you think everyone has it so it’s normal, but they don’t, you know? You just have something, and I can’t really pinpoint what it is. You can read people, and know what they’re thinking before even _they_ do. I know that sounds crazy and everything, but whatever it is, I think it’s a form of the shine.”

“Peter, you make me blush,” she fans herself, smiling.

“Shut up,” he laughs, hitting her with a pillow.

“I mean, yeah you sound crazy, but I’ve never thought of it that way,” she tilts her head now, contemplating it. “I guess I could.”

“Maybe there’s some brain exercises you could do to strengthen it or something,” Peter suggests, shrugging. “It would be pretty cool if you could harness it and use it to your advantage.”

“You’re such a nerd,” she laughs now, knocking her elbow into his side. “But we’ll see. Maybe I will.”

“You better! I’d kill to have something like that,” he sighs, reaching up to grab some dried pineapple. He takes a bite, then opens the bag to her, letting her have some too.

“We all want what we can’t have,” she replies simply, before clicking the power button on the remote, cutting the TV on.

They end up watching the entirety of five one-hour-long episodes of America’s Next Top Model. Around the second episode they ended up pausing and listening to her family drunkenly make their way back to their rooms, laughing and running into things, and, honestly, sounding like complete idiots. But he and MJ just rolled their eyes and continued watching the show until almost one in the morning.

By the end of episode two, they were already completely invested in the show. Of course they had both chosen their favorite models they wanted to win, and put the bag of dried pineapples up for bet to go to whichever one of their models ended up staying the longest. Peter’s favorite actually ended up winning, but he still shared the dried pineapple with MJ anyway. Not that she would have _ever_ given him the same courtesy, but still.

Once the last episode ended, they both went and brushed their teeth and got changed into their pajamas, before turning the lights out and falling sleepily into bed.

Like they always ends up doing, they stay silent for a while, both staring off into the dark as they think. MJ never can say anything serious to him in the light, in the daytime, where she could possibly come off as nice, or sensitive, or soft. And Peter knows she can’t, so he doesn’t expect her to. But she always seems to build up the courage at night, in the darkness where she can’t be seen or vulnerable.

He feels her shift slightly on her side of the bed, and hears her breathe out softly as she faces him now.

“Thanks for everything tonight,” she tells him in a whisper, barely able to force it out. “For taking up for me, for taking the blame, for what you told me in the bathroom. I know I don’t seem like it at the time maybe, but I do appreciate it. And I’m...I’m glad you came with me.”

He opens his mouth to reply, to tell her she doesn’t need to thank him, but then he feels her shift again, and suddenly her hand is on his neck, and then her lips are on his cheek. She kisses him there for a moment, before pulling away and laying down again. “Don’t say anything. Goodnight, Parker.”

“Goodnight, MJ,” he barely mutters out, once again shocked from MJ’s words, her actions. He’s pretty sure he could live a thousand lifetimes with her, and he’d still be surprised by her then, too. And while MJ is already snoring fifteen minutes later, Peter doesn’t fall asleep for three more hours. He just stares up at the ceiling and thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I've definitely read some of you guys' twitter posts about this story. It's crazy that you like it enough to talk about it on there—it makes me so happy :) (Just to let you know, I don't have a stan/fan account, so I'm not secretly one of your followers or anything. Just FYI.)


	6. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this chapter! Thank you guys for being so supportive—I'm trying to update as often as possible :) As always, I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (Also: I just made an Ask.fm account in case anyone has any questions/wondering when I'll update next since it's not really efficient here! Here you go if you're interested: https://ask.fm/chrono1996)

“No, a little higher,” MJ orders him, and he sighs and rolls his eyes, pushing his fingers higher up her foot and beginning to rub it. “Okay, there.”

“Whatever you want, your highness,” he groans in sarcasm, but she’s just smiling, resting her head on her clasped fingers.

“Glad you’re finally catching on,” she smiles proudly, relaxing with a sigh.

A few minutes ago they were swimming behind their bungalow, when MJ got a foot cramp. So she whined and complained, and Peter can’t even remember _how_ it happened, but he’s now rubbing her foot somehow, and he’s accepted his fate. First fake boyfriend, then teeth brusher, now foot rubber. Who even _knows_ what the next thing she’s going to coax him into is.

She sighs in relaxation, shifting slightly to get comfortable. He hears her breathe out, and she closes her eyes while he digs his thumb into her foot, sort of annoyed by how much she’s enjoying it. His hand is even cramping slightly from applying so much pressure, and he’s _sure_ it has to be hurting her right now with how hard he’s rubbing, but she just seems to enjoy it more and more the rougher he gets.

“Yeah, right there,” she exhales, sighing softly.

He looks at her incredulously, suddenly confused. She has her eyes closed so she can’t see him, but he narrows his eyes at her. He doesn’t know if he’s going insane or what, but this feels like it’s somewhat sexual for her somehow, and he has no idea how it got here. He thinks about what she told him the other day, saying: _“Okay, that argument is stupid because foot rubs are totally turn-on worthy.”_ Is that what this is? Is she actually getting turned on now from him rubbing her feet right now? Or could she just be messing with him? She’s been known to do that before—he wouldn’t put it past her now.

Either way, he’s suddenly having trouble breathing, as she exhales a soft _“don’t stop, Peter.”_

So he doesn’t. He doesn’t even want to, because when he moves his hands up and over her skin to rub her ankle, he sees her exhale and grasp at the bed sheet on either side of her. There’s no way she’s faking this.

He feels that familiar ache deep in his stomach, especially as he notices her breath getting shallower, and her chest beginning to rise and fall at a quicker pace than normal. It was confusing at first, but now the only thing going through his mind is how much he wants to _continue_ making her feel good, and how he just wants to hear her say his name under her breath like that again.

“Higher,” she pleads quietly, and he takes in a sharp breath, complying. His hands venture further up her skin, using both of them to rake his fingers deep into the muscles of her calves slowly, leisurely. He watches her face, seeing her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip get caught between her teeth as she lets out a throaty moan, encouraging him further.

One thing he’s learned on this trip is that _nothing_ can get him more turned on than seeing _her_ turned on. And he isn’t sure how he feels about that. Well he knows how he feels about that _now,_ but it’s confusing at any other time when he actually has a clear head.

She’s wearing that crochet dress again, and she’s moaning incessantly now as he moves up to her thigh, unable to catch his breath just _watching_ her.

“God, come here,” she whimpers out raspily, reaching up to grab his face and press her hungry, desperate lips on his. Their hot, wanting mouths collide with each others, and his mind is completely jumbled and confused and disoriented as she slips her tongue in his mouth. He can’t even _process_ anything long enough to wonder _why_ this is happening.

“You want this?” she asks, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer, kiss him harder. “You want me?”

“Yeah, MJ, I do,” he mumbles out breathlessly, not using his brain for even a _second_ before responding. “So, so bad.”

“I knew it,” she laughs against his lips, before suddenly pressing her hands flat against his chest and pushing him off. He falls back on the bed, looking at her as she sits up with a grin. “God, I freaking _knew_ it.”

“What?” He asks, looking at her in complete and utter confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’d want this, Peter? You think I’d want _you?”_ she laughs, narrowing her eyes at him. “You have to know that all of my “jokes” are all that they really are—jokes. That’s it. The attraction is only one-sided, and it always has been.”

“I...I know,” he replies, breathing out. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“You thought I wanted it too,” she laughs mockingly, shaking her head and standing up. Her breath isn’t heavy anymore. “You’re ridiculous. When we’re around my family, it’s all _pretend._ Fake. It’s never been real, and it never will be, and I made that clear before you came on this trip with me. Understand?”

“MJ-” he starts, feeling tears sting the backs of his eyes.

“Just go home, Parker, you’re pathetic,” she laughs at him, falling back down on the bed and carelessly flipping through a book. Then she looks at him, and says “Well? Your bags aren’t going to pack themselves.”

He sits there in shock, trying to fight back the lump in his throat. When she notices that, she tilts her head and smiles at him, and it’s evil, and he feels a sick, twisted feeling in his stomach, before she lunges across the bed at him.

…And then he wakes up.

The room is still dark as he sits up in bed, gasping for air and sweating and still having that awful feeling in his stomach. His arms are holding him up, and he’s still trying to catch his breath. It was one of those nightmares that felt _so_ real, that it ruins your whole day because it was _that_ disorienting.

“Peter…?” MJ sits up on her elbow and rubs her eyes, whispering even though they’re the only ones in the room. He knows he isn’t dreaming anymore, and that MJ would _never_ really say those things to him, but he still has the aftermath feeling from the nightmare, and he can still picture the detached facial expression she had when she told him that she didn’t want him and never will.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she asks, yawning and sitting up higher so that she’s next to him. She gently sets her hand on his arm, worried, but he flinches at her touch. “You okay?”

“I need some air,” he breathes out, throwing the blanket off of himself and climbing out of bed, making his way to the back door.

“Do you want some company?” She asks quietly, right before he’s about to close it. He can hardly even see her, but he can tell she’s looking over at him in concern.

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine,” he assures her, just needing some alone time to think. “Just go back to sleep.”

He shuts the door then and carefully makes his way down the steps, until he reaches the bottom platform and sits down, wading his feet in the water.

He still hasn’t fully recovered from the dream. It was...fun, at first, but then horrifying and awful within the span of minutes.

He’s known for a while now that he’s very clearly physically attracted to her, but it’s like even his subconscious is making fun of him. _You think she’s pretty? Well she thinks you’re awful and worthless, and I’ll remind you of that every time you close your eyes. So ha!_

It was confusing, too. Yes, MJ makes fun of him and teases him, but it’s all in good fun (he’s pretty sure, at least.) So she would never talk to him like that, or tell him all of those awful things.

...Right?

“I know you wanted to be alone, but you came on this trip with the _wrong_ person if you thought that was actually gonna happen,” MJ descends the stairs with a small, sleepy laugh, holding two coffee cups in her hands. Her curly hair is messy and all over the place, and her eyes are still half shut, and she’s wearing oversized plain black t-shirt and banana print shorts. She probably has no idea how cute she looks right now.

Peter smiles a little, taking one of the coffee cups from her as she sits down beside him. The sun is beginning to rise in the distance, and even though they can’t see it yet, their surroundings are gradually getting lighter.

He’s actually a little relieved she’s here. It’s still weird to see her—the real her—here in front of him now, soft and sleepy and completely incapable of _actually_ saying those things.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asks, before taking a sip of her plain black coffee. The sound of nature is all around them, and there’s fresh air, and the sun’s just beginning to rise, and it would all be a perfect beginning to his day _if_ he could stop reliving that awful dream over and over again.

“No,” he replies, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sorry, but I just...don’t. It’s stupid anyway, and I just want to forget about it.”

“Whatever it was, it was just a dream,” she assures him, knocking her foot against his in the water. She’s only being kind to him because she can _see_ how off he is right now, but it’s still nice regardless of why. “So don’t let it ruin your day. That’s what my mom is for, anyway, and if you take that from her, what could she do? Actually be _nice_ for once? Really, Peter, it’s just selfish of you.”

“Shut up,” he laughs a little, shaking his head. She may not be the best consoler in the world, but she’s good at making him laugh when he didn’t think it was possible.

“Hey, I know something that’ll cheer you up,” she grins, grabbing his coffee cup from his hands and setting it down beside him.

“And that is…?” he turns and asks, curious.

And then she pushes him full force into the water.

“I know I should have seen that coming, but I can’t freaking stand you, you know that?” he groans and laughs, splashing her as he emerges.

“My spontaneity keeps your life incredibly interesting, Parker,” she shrugs and stands up, pulling off her clothes. “You’ll thank me one day.”

“I’m sure,” he shakes his head, pulling his five-million-pound-soaking-wet-shirt off and throwing it onto the dock. MJ runs and jumps in, making a ginormous splash.

She resurfaces and pushes her wet hair back, taking in a long breath.

“Just because you _chose_ to jump in before I could push you doesn’t mean I’m not gonna get back at you,” he swims towards her, and she narrows her eyes, now swimming away from him.

“And what does that mean?” she asks with a suspicious smile, warily trying to swim away faster. But he grabs her leg before she can get far enough away, and she lets out a half-laugh half-shriek as he grabs her shoulders.

“Peter if you dunk me I s-” she starts to threaten, but then she gets interrupted by him dunking her.

He pulls her back up, laughing hysterically as she tries to fight the grip he has on her shoulders. “Don’t you dare d-” she starts again, and then he _dunks_ her again.

But then he gets a little too cocky while she’s underwater, because she pinches the absolute _shit_ out his hand, and his first instinct is to let go.

“Jesus, MJ!” he cries out in pain, shaking his hand. She just shrugs proudly, saying: _“that’s what you get, idiot.”_

They swim around for a while then, watching the sun slowly emerge and light up the water beautifully. It’s completely surreal, so they pull themselves back onto the dock to fully enjoy it, drinking their coffee.

After about fifteen full minutes of silence, MJ clears her throat and asks, “Are you...okay, though? Seriously?”

He has to smile at that, because it’s actually _nice._ It’s difficult for her, and uncomfortable, and she probably had to mentally prepare herself to do it for those fifteen whole minutes, and _that’s_ why it’s so special. She didn’t _have_ to ask, but she did. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

She nods then and he sees her shoulders relax, and he feels better. Dream MJ would have never asked him that, and he relaxes too when he finally fully realizes that the dream didn’t have one bit of truth to it.

After mostly drying off in the new day’s warm, fully-risen sun, they hang their clothes on their porch’s rail to dry before heading back inside.

“What do you want to do today?” MJ asks, sitting on the bed.

“I have no idea,” he replies, shrugging as he leans against the wall. “I’m sure your aunt probably has something planned though, right?”

“Probably,” she groans, falling back onto the bed. “If only we could fake sick for the rest of the trip.”

“Yeah, I wish we could too,” he sighs, before making his way over to his suitcase. “I’m gonna put on some clothes and brush my teeth, but do you wanna go grab something from the snack bar after?”

“God, yes,” she replies, now getting up to dig in _her_ suitcase for a top and shorts.

She’s only in a bra and underwear now since they didn’t change into swimsuits before getting in the water this morning. He obviously knows that seeing her in a bra and underwear is the same as seeing her in a bikini, but it embarrassingly makes him more nervous this way. When she’s in a bikini, his brain just thinks, _“she’s in a bikini because we’re on vacation and we’re about to swim.”_ But when she’s in a bra and underwear, he can’t help but think, _“she’s half-naked right now.”_ He’s fully aware of how stupid it is—especially since both bear the same amount of skin—but his brain _processes_ it differently for some annoying reason.

So that’s why he keeps his eyes focused on finding clothes, and then from there he looks straight ahead at the bathroom like it’s a checkpoint. He doesn’t even _glance_ anywhere else.

After he’s finished MJ goes and brushes her teeth too, and then he makes _another_ trip back after she’s done to quickly comb through his hair.

“Kinda looks like it might storm later,” MJ points out, glancing out the window. “The clouds are looking pretty bad.”

“Really?” Peter asks, walking up beside her to check for himself. He sees the dark-clouded sky out in the distance, looking like it’s coming straight for them. “Maybe we can get breakfast before it hits. It still looks pretty sunny over here for now.”

“Yeah, probably,” MJ nods, before opening the door. “At least that means we can stay in though.”

They walk outside, and then MJ turns back to look at him.

“Be quiet so we don’t wake anyone,” she tells him, before attempting to tiptoe across the long dock. “Not that I care if we wake them up, but I’d rather not have to deal with them this early in the morning if I don’t have to.”

“Understood,” he laughs quietly, silently following behind her.

“Feeling better, Peter?” Her aunt walks out of her bungalow behind them, and they both jump. MJ stops dead in her tracks, which makes Peter run into her and almost knock her over. “You two are up early this morning.”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better, thanks,” he laughs, swallowing thickly. His heart is _still_ racing from the scare, but he’s trying to act like nothing’s up.

“We turned in super early last night, so when we also _woke_ up super early, we decided we’d just enjoy it and watch the sunrise,” MJ replies with a laugh, now habitually gravitating towards Peter when there’s a family member’s presence. “Really romantic, by the way.”

“Wow, well then me and John should definitely do that before the week’s up!” Kyra laughs, now walking alongside them down the dock.

“So is everything looking good for the wedding then?” MJ asks curiously, reaching down to absentmindedly intertwine her and Peter’s fingers together.

“Yes, thankfully,” her aunt laughs, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she sits down at the table in front of the snack bar to talk. They both follow suit and sit across from her, the shade of the overhead umbrella thankfully blocking the scorching sun. “Everything worked perfectly with the venue, the DJ has all of our songs in _exactly_ the order I want them in, the flower arrangements are absolutely _stunning_ , and I just confirmed all of the catering information yesterday.”

“So happy for you,” MJ smiles, and Peter turns to look at her, smiling himself. When he first met her aunt, he really didn’t care for her much. She has the same curse of rudeness that most of MJ’s family has, but he’s now learned that hers is at least _tolerable,_ while MJ’s mom’s is not. Not even a little.

“Thank you, honey,” her aunt laughs, seeming content. “The rest of the family is getting in tomorrow night. It should be after the party, though, so we may not see them until the morning of.”

“Party?” Peter asks, looking between her and MJ. He didn’t know there was supposed to be a party.

“My daughters are throwing John and I a joint Bachelor/Bachelorette luau-themed party for,” Kyra explains with a smile, “You didn’t tell him Michelle?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” MJ shrugs, and Peter glances over at her.

“I think they said there’s going to be karaoke, games, and hopefully lots of alcohol,” her aunt shrugs, smiling. Peter laughs and nods, still unsure of _why_ MJ wouldn’t tell him about it.

“So, the honeymoon,” MJ interrupts, looking at her aunt. “Where are you guys going?”

“Paris,” her aunt rubs her hands together in excitement, sighing happily. “We have a place there for two weeks.”

“Oh man, you’ll have to send lots of pictures,” MJ nods, smiling.

“We definitely will,” she replies, crossing her legs. “So have you two been having fun here?”

“Best vacation I’ve ever had,” Peter laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Hands down.”

“Yeah, same here,” MJ replies, before turning to look at Peter. “And it’s our first trip together, so that’s been nice.”

“I can just _see_ how in love you two are when you look at each other,” her aunt sighs, smiling proudly at them. Peter shifts uncomfortably. “You’ve gotten to the ‘I love you’ stage, yes?”

“Oh,” MJ laughs, looking at Peter uncomfortably. He gulps. “Yeah, we have. But it’s just sort of new, so…”

She’s very obviously trying to avoid saying it. It must be one of those things (like touching) that she tries her hardest to stay away from, and she’s been successful so far.

Her aunt is smiling and looking between them, waiting for them to say it to each other. They turn and look at each other, Peter’s mouth dry, his palms sweating.

This shouldn’t be so hard, right? It’s just three words, and in their case, it doesn’t _actually_ mean anything for them. He and Ned have been saying it to each other forever, so why does it feel so different? Peter and MJ have even discussed how they’re supposed to _act_ like they’re in love, so why does saying the actual words to each other make him feel so terrified? Why is it so much more difficult?

“I, uh…” Peter turns and looks at her, knowing that if it’s hard for him, it’s probably twice as hard for her. She tucks her hair back behind her ear and tilts her head to the side, waiting. What’s going through her head right now? “I-”

“Good morning,” John walks up to the table just in time, sinking into the chair next to Kyra and grabbing her hand.

Relief floods instantly through Peter from that save. He and MJ’s eyes are still locked, and his heart is pounding, and he swallows thickly. MJ’s eyes tear away from his then, and she breathes out and smiles at John, saying, “Morning.”

Peter looks away from her then too, having to blink a few times to try and pull himself out of whatever _that_ was.

“Only two more days,” John turns to Kyra, leans in, and kisses her on the cheek. Peter smiles and his heart warms at that, not really expecting to see that coming from him. Maybe he’s misjudged _both_ of them.

“I love you,” Kyra leans against him, smiling and giving him a kiss. Peter turns away uncomfortably, now glancing over at MJ, but she’s looking the _other_ way. So he just looks down at his hands awkwardly.

“Good morning!” Jennifer says breathlessly, both her and her boyfriend jogging up to their table.

“Have you guys been running?” MJ looks up at them, making a face of complete confusion. “This early? On _vacation?”_

“It’s a nice habit to get into,” Jennifer smiles and laughs, holding her hands on her hips. “I actually look forward to it every day—even on vacation!”

“Me too,” Jordan nods, before gulping down half a water bottle right there. Then, after swallowing, “It’s a great way to start off the day.”

“I wish I had that kind of motivation,” MJ sighs under her breath, slumping down in her seat.

“Speaking of great ways to start off the day, who wants to get some breakfast?” Kyra asks, looking at all of them. “A raspberry walnut frittata sounds to _die_ for right now.”

Peter’s never had that, and regardless of the fact that it doesn’t sound that appetizing, he feels an ache of hunger in his stomach anyway.

“Yeah, breakfast sounds great,” MJ nods, and after Jennifer and Jordan confirm they want breakfast too, they all get up and make their way to the rental cars. Peter and MJ get their own thank god, but MJ just stares out the window the whole time. She doesn’t even _glance_ at him or make fun of the fact that her cousin was running at seven in the morning like he expected her to. She doesn’t talk at all, actually. He wants to say something, anything, but she’s never responsive whenever she gets this way.

“I feel severely underdressed,” Peter whispers to MJ as they walk into a small cafe, looking around at all the fancy people. He’s just in shorts and a t-shirt, while they’re all dressed up. For breakfast.

“Yeah, same,” she nods, but that’s all she gives him. He chews the inside of his cheek.

So they eat breakfast and talk about the wedding. Peter and MJ stay quiet as much as they possibly can, while the other four discuss their outfits for the wedding, the food, and anything else you can imagine.

It’s hard enough for Peter to be in this situation normally, but it’s _especially_ difficult when he doesn’t have MJ laughing under her breath at them, or knocking her leg against his under the table to make fun of how fancy they are. It’s no fun without her fully here, and the food isn’t even good, either.

One thing he _does_ notice, though, is MJ watching Jennifer and Jordan carefully. They’re so close that she may as well be sitting in his lap, they look into each other’s eyes bashfully when they speak, and they laugh and giggle and tease each other _every single second._

“Trouble in paradise?” Kyra furrows her eyebrows, looking between Peter and MJ. Their chairs are pretty far apart from each others, they aren’t touching even a little, and they haven’t even _looked_ at each other this entire time. “Is something wrong? I swear you two don’t even look like a couple sometimes!”

“No, no, we’re great,” MJ laughs, scooting her chair closer to Peter’s. Then she reaches up and presses her palm to his cheek, before leaning in and kissing him. He knows she’s trying to sell this to them now, but the kiss was long and intimate and awkward, and he’s pretty sure it may have made their situation worse. Even though he, personally, enjoyed it immensely. “We’re just tired, is all.”

“That reminds me—your mom was _so_ pissed off at you guys for lying about being sick _just_ so you could stay in and have sex all night,” Jennifer laughs, taking a sip of her mom’s Mimosa. “We all saw right through that lie. But I have to say I’m jealous; I wanted to do it too.”

Now Jennifer and Jordan are laughing and whispering to each other, and Peter looks over at Kyra to see if she has a reaction to this, but she doesn’t. She’s just completely fine with her daughter talking about having sex all night.

“Well he wasn’t feeling great so it wasn’t technically a _lie,_ but yeah. We had to get it out of our systems or we could have been practically humping each other at the dinner table,” MJ laughs, and sets her hand on Peter’s thigh. Peter shifts uncomfortably, forcing out a laugh. “Kind of like Jenn and Jordan are right now.”

They just laugh at that and then kiss, and Peter is sitting there dumbfounded, just trying to process all of this information at once. It all happened so fast; her aunt’s accusations of them not being a real couple, MJ kissing him, that whole weird ass conversation that just happened, MJ’s hand on his leg. Everything feels crazy right now, but he knows he has to compose himself and act normal or it’ll get even crazier. And he can’t jeopardize this for MJ—especially not this far into it.

“Sorry if I started anything last night,” Peter smiles, confessing to Kyra and John. “Sometimes we just...you know, can’t help ourselves.”

It physically pains him to get the words out, but Kyra seems pleased.

“I fully understand! Don’t worry about it,” she waves him off, and MJ laughs as he leans down and kisses her cheek. But then she turns, smiling as she kisses him on the lips now. He wasn’t expecting it but he embraces it anyway, sliding his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

As embarrassing as it is to do in front of her family and all these people, he still really likes doing it anyway.

MJ pulls back soon after and then leans her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his.

He thought she may have been exaggerating at the beginning of the week about how good of an actress she is, but she wasn’t exaggerating it at all. She’s great at it; so great, in fact, that even _he_ believes it for a second when she kisses him like that.

But when he comes back to reality it actually feels comical that someone he can hardly even stand being around could easily trick him into believing something so crazy. She’s extremely charming when she wants to be, which is something that is _still_ weird to him. You’d never expect it from her, and yet she has more of it than anyone else he’s ever met. She could probably convince anyone of anything if she really wanted to.

After they all finish their breakfasts and order to-go soufflé’s for MJ’s mom and Abby, they go to leave. But it’s now _pouring_ rain.

John calls their drivers and asks them to pull around beside the curb, and then they wait.

“Of course the _first_ real day we’re here it’s storming,” Jennifer sighs, laying her head on Jordan’s shoulder. MJ notices that, and then grabs Peter’s hand.

When the car pulls up, Kyra insists Peter and MJ go first, and John holds an umbrella over them for the gap between the roof and their car. Peter feels really bad for misjudging them now, especially when he turns around as the car pulls away, and sees him holding the umbrella over the rest of them; now getting poured on himself.

“That was crazy,” Peter laughs, pushing his fingers through his semi-wet hair. “We’re gonna have to run all the way back through the bungalows in that.”

“Peter, you literally just swam in the ocean,” MJ turns to him and laughs a little, shaking her head. “The only difference is that this is coming from the sky.”

He had never really thought about it that way before, so he considers that for a second, and then replies: “Yeah, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes—MJ looking out the window and Peter looking at her. Finally they arrive back at their part of the island, and then mentally prepare themselves to run through the rain before _actually_ doing it.

They’re soaking wet and laughing as they make it back inside, pushing past each other to grab towels first. They’re completely soaked; their clothes and hair dripping on the floor messily.

Once they start stripping their wet clothes off, they discard them onto the floor of the shower for now. Peter’s down to his underwear and is about to towel himself off, before he hears MJ groaning while struggling to pull her shirt off.

“Need help?” He laughs, walking up to her. Her elbows are up in the air, and the wet shirt is clinging onto her skin tightly as she tries to pull it up.

“It’s so freaking heavy,” she huffs, giving up. Peter laughs and grabs at the bottom of it, then grabs her arm and tries to pull the shirt off of it. He gets that one, and then MJ uses that free hand to help him then, and they tug and tug and tug, before it finally comes free. And then he pulls the rest off her head, and throws it into the shower.

“Although I’m sure you only wanted to help so you could get up close and personal while I’m half naked, thanks anyway,” she laughs, grabbing her towel and scrunching up the moisture from her hair with it.

Peter smiles at that, but he’s quickly swept up into a trance seeing her in front of him, running the towel through her hair, seeing the raindrops still falling down her face, hanging off the tips of her eyelashes. Her skin is still wet from the rain, and she’s back only in her bra and underwear, and he’s doing that thing again where he can’t move or breathe or _think._

“Like what you see, huh?” MJ flips her hair back, batting her eyelashes at him and biting her lip.

“Sorry,” he breathes out raspily and looks up, swallowing and feeling his face flush.

She just looks at him and laughs a little, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. And then, tilting her head again to dry her hair, her eyes slowly study his body from bottom to top, before she looks up and in his eyes. She’s staring him down, and while the eye contact itself is hard enough to maintain as it is, she’s also giving him this _look_ that he can’t decipher. And that’s making him even more nervous.

“I’m gonna, um…” he gulps, breaking the eye contact and grabbing an outfit quickly from his bag. “Get dressed.”

“And by “get dressed” do you mean rub one out to the thought of me?” she asks, smiling and leaning her head against the doorway.

“You’re gross,” he groans and shakes his head, moving to close the door. Right before he does, though, he opens it back up with an afterthought. “And just for the record, no. By “get dressed” I _actually_ meant get dressed. And if I was going to do... _that,_ it wouldn’t be you I was thinking of anyway.”

“Sure, Peter,” she nods, still having that dumb, annoying smile on her face. So he just rolls his eyes and slams the door.

As soon as he’s alone in the bathroom, he leans his hands on the counter and stares at himself in the mirror. What the _hell_ was that? She’s always been attractive, yeah, but for the past few days he’s been catching himself staring, and wishing, and dreaming, and now it’s all confusing and messy and he hates it. And on top of that, he can’t stand _her._

“Jenn just text and invited us to come watch horror movies in their room since it’s storming,” MJ tells him as he comes out, finally in warm, dry clothes. “Her, Jordan, and Abby. And snacks. You wanna go?”

“I mean I guess,” he nods, shrugging. “Do you?”

“Sounds kinda fun,” she replies, standing up. She’s gotten dressed too, and she put her hair up, and God, _how_ does she look so good in just a hoodie and sweatpants? He scolds himself for even thinking that. “Let’s go then.”

“Wait a second,” Peter steps forward, looking at her. “Why were you acting so weird earlier? After we left to go to breakfast in the car, and then when we were at the cafe. You were being really weird.”

“Um, no I wasn’t?” she replies, narrowing her eyes at him and crossing her arms. Defense mechanism. _“You_ were being weird.”

“Defensive much?” he retorts, nudging her with his elbow. “Seriously, what was that about? You were being all quiet and standoffish. Was it about the ‘I love you’ thing?”

She looks at him for a second, her expression unreadable, before she turns back around to look out the window, simply replying “no.”

“Liar,” he fakes out a cough to disguise it, then clears his throat. “Excuse me.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs a little, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulder. “If you _have_ to know, I just have an issue...saying that. Who cares?”

“You haven’t told anyone you loved them?” Peter asks, feeling a wave of sadness and guilt and pain wash over him. He can’t imagine not telling May or Ned that every day, or not having _them_ tell _him_ that every day. “Ever?”

“What’s it to you?” She crosses her arms, not even able to make eye contact now. He feels nauseated and awful.

“As much as you deny it, I _am_ your friend, you know,” he sighs, unsure of what to say. He never really knows what to say to her. “So...not even when you were a kid or anything?”

“No one ever said it to me, so I didn’t say it to them,” she laughs uncomfortably, brushing it off. His heart sinks, even though she’s acting like she’s unbothered. “Let’s just drop it. It’s not even a big deal.”

“It kind of is, MJ,” he replies, desperately trying not to pity her because that’s when she gets _pissed._ But he can’t help furrowing his eyebrows when he looks at her, and he tries to fight the lump in his throat but he can’t. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About seeing your family only twice a year, you know? Is that...true?”

“So what?” she scoffs, _still_ trying to put on an act. “They’re awful.”

“Yeah, but...if you don’t have them, and you don’t have other friends at home, then...is it just me and Ned?” he asks quietly, only just now realizing this himself.

Yeah, she’s a pain in the ass, but all of this time she never had _anyone_ but them. That’s why she would come over so much after class, and before class, and sometimes even when she was supposed to be _in_ class. And he’s been such a jerk to her these past months, too. Of course he didn’t know what was going on, but he still feels disgusted with himself.

The worst part is that even the three of their relationships weren’t very in-depth. She would come over and steal their food, or nap on their couch, but they never really talked. He knows now that she just wanted some company, and they were all she ever had.

“Can we not do this right now?” she asks, her voice cracking slightly. She clears her throat and looks down at her feet, desperately trying to compose herself.

“Jesus, MJ, who do you talk to? Who do you call when you make an A on your test, or _fail_ your test, or when _anything_ happens to you that’s worth sharing?” he mutters, looking at her sadly. “Is there anyone? Because it’s never been me or Ned, and we’re who you see daily. And I know it’s not your mom, or your aunt, or your cousins.”

“I don’t _need_ anyone, Peter,” she grits her teeth, pushing past him. She looked like she might cry a few seconds ago, but she looks angry now. He’s learned that that’s how she deals with things that she doesn’t want to be dealing with.

“Everyone needs someone, MJ, and you aren’t an exception,” he turns and looks at her, trying so hard to make her see that it’s not normal, and it never _should_ be normal for anyone. _“No one_ is an exception.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you right now,” she laughs angrily and shakes her head, and he sighs. “Or ever, actually. I’ve been fine for this long, so I’ll be fine now and for however long I need to be.”

“You _aren’t_ fine, MJ! God, you act like you are, but we _both_ know you aren’t,” he replies, shaking his head. “And I know you know that too.”

She looks at him then like he hurt her more than her mom, or aunt, or cousins _ever_ could, and he can feel his heart breaking.

“I hate you, Peter,” she whispers lowly as she looks at him, her face full of anger and hurt and her fists clenched at her sides. “I _hate_ you.”

He flinches at her words and fights back tears, his stomach wrenching painfully.

“MJ-” he breathes out, his voice cracking as he reaches for her. She pulls back before he can, now even angrier.

“Don’t you _dare_ touch me,” she growls at him, her voice dripping with bitterness. He steps back, gulping. “I’m leaving. If you follow me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I won’t,” he replies quietly, as she walks out into the rain and slams the door behind her.

He feels like he should be crying, but as he stumbles back and sits down on the bed, he’s pretty sure he’s in shock. He just stares at the floor, unblinking, barely even _breathing._ He can’t process what just happened, because it doesn’t even feel _real._

He wishes Ned or May were here, because they _always_ know what to say and how to make him think about things rationally. But he feels bad since he hasn’t returned their missed calls and texts this entire trip, and if he did it now, it would only be because he had a problem that he needed them to help him with. And as much as he knows they _want_ to help, he can’t do that to them.

So he breathes out and slides his shoes off, before slipping into bed, under the blanket. He hears thunder outside, and the room lights up with the occasional lightning strike, and all he can think about is _“I hope she’s okay.”_

He wishes he just hadn’t said anything at all. Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t, but the last thing he wanted to do is upset her. He just wanted to help her, and tell her that _he’s_ there for her, but he knows now that he should have just shut up. She may not be ready to face any of this anyway, and forcing her to do it wasn’t his intention at all.

And he knows she’s angry and mad, but she can’t _really_ hate him, right? He’s sure that in the moment where she told him that, he’s never felt worse in his life. Guilty, upset, heartbroken, even. _He_ knows that he was only trying to help, but he can see how she may have seen it all as an attack on her. And it isn’t like she’s ever had someone to talk to or had someone that actually cared about her, so she doesn’t know how to deal with it now that someone does.

But despite all of the thoughts scrambling through his mind, and all of the reasons he comes up with that she may _not_ actually hate him, he still doesn’t feel any better. And now he can’t stop thinking about her outside in the rain, angry and scared and cold, and—worse of all—all alone.

Even though there’s loud thunder and the flashing lightning, sometime while thinking about all of this he drifts off into sleep. He tosses and turns, unsurprisingly not sleeping very soundly.

He wakes up because of a loud crack of lightning outside, and he sits up and gasps for air, his heart racing. For a second he hopes it was all a dream like the one he had this morning, but he knows it’s not. It was too real, too vivid, too painful.

He rolls over and sighs, rubbing his temples to try and relieve his tension headache. It doesn’t work.

He opens his phone and sees that it’s already almost three p.m., meaning he slept for almost four full hours. He groans and opens his messages, having almost thirty from Aunt May talking about how worried she is, and how he _better_ text her back. And then there’s around _fifty_ from Ned, who would text him at first asking if he and MJ had made out against a wall yet, and then gradually they were filled with more and more anxiety; the latest one saying, _“seriously, dude, answer me. Me and May are worried.”_

He had seen he was getting texts from them all week, but he was too preoccupied doing things with MJ to ever answer. So now he feels awful about _everything_ going on in his life right now.

He presses his finger against the text box to reply to Ned, hesitating a moment, before typing out: “So sorry. Not an excuse, but I’ve been super busy. Miss you :(” He presses send, and then goes to text May. He feels even _worse_ for worrying her to death. “Sorry I haven’t replied, we’ve been busy :( We’re doing great and having fun. Miss and love you! See you soon!”

As soon as he presses send, his phone starts buzzing, and Ned’s face pops up on the screen. Peter breathes in, sits up, and then answers the call.

“Seriously, Peter? I haven’t heard from you _all week!”_ Neds sighs into the phone, and Peter chews the inside of his cheek. “Me and May thought you had, like, died or something. I can’t even enjoy _my_ spring break because I’ve been worrying about you too much! Okay, that’s a lie, but I really have been worried.”

“I know, Ned, I’m sorry,” Peter tells him quietly, breathing out. “Her aunt’s been keeping us super busy, and then the times we _weren’t_ super busy, it’s been like three a.m. in Miami for you.”

“It’s okay,” Ned breathes out, forgiving him instantly. “Just keep in touch for the rest of the trip, okay? I haven’t even gotten _one_ status update or _one_ cute picture of you and MJ, and I’ve been waiting.”

“I’m not sure that’s gonna happen,” Peter sighs, feeling he tears come as he _finally_ faces what actually happened between them. He forces them back though, refusing to let Ned know _just_ how upset he is over this.

“Peter, are you okay?” Ned asks, worry evident in his voice.

So Peter informs him of what’s going on. He doesn’t tell him every detail of MJ’s personal life, obviously, but he tells him just enough for him to be able to really understand the situation.

“Holy shit, I had no idea she had such a shitty family,” Ned answers after having fifteen full seconds of silence, “Literally _no_ idea.”

“Me neither,” Peter replies, gulping. “And now she hates me, and she’s out there all by herself, and I just feel awful, Ned. I knew this trip would be hard, but not in this way. I didn’t expect any of this.”

“Yeah, I, uh...didn’t either,” Ned confesses, and they both sit in silence for a while. “You okay, dude?”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter nods, even though he knows he can’t see him. “It sucks, but hopefully we’ll figure it out.”

“Not to be insensitive, but after all this...is it safe to assume that you guys _haven’t_ made out against a wall yet?” Ned asks, and Peter sighs.

“No, Ned,” he laughs a little, but the feeling of emotional exhaustion is still very, very present. “So how has your spring break been?”

And they talk for another hour about that, and how Ned now has “a killer tan,” and how he’s had amazing food, etc. And then, after assuring him he’ll keep in touch for the rest of the trip, they end the call.

And without that distraction, Peter instantly slips back into feeling absolutely awful.

He turns on the tv, but because of the storm there’s no signal. Of course. So he goes on his phone to play a game, but he can’t pay attention for even a minute, so he closes it and sets his phone on his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

After thinking it over and worrying himself sick, he opens MJ’s contact in his phone, hesitates his fingers over the keys, and then types out: _“Please just tell me you’re safe. The storm’s bad and I just need to know you aren’t in it.”_

He stares at it for a few minutes, glaring warily at the send button. But then he thinks better of it, closes the app and locks his phone, staring up at the ceiling again. But ten minutes later he thinks it over _again,_ his worry and stress way too overwhelming to just ignore. So he types it out again, and presses send before he can talk himself out of it.

Then he waits. The longer he goes without getting an answer, the worse he feels. He’s scared something happened to her, or even that _nothing_ happened to her but she’s festering in her hatred for him. He’s just _scared._

After an hour with no text back, he decides to try and take his mind off of all of it by taking a much needed shower. He stares out the window, taking in how breathtaking the storm is from here. But as hard as he tries, he can’t stop thinking about her and if she’s okay.

After finishing his shower he wraps a towel around his waist and quickly runs back to the bed to check his phone. But she still hasn’t answered. Not that he really expected her too, but he had been hoping anyway, and now he feels even worse. He falls back on the bed, and stares up at the ceiling for what seems like the millionth time today.

His phone buzzes eventually, and he grabs it so fast that he almost falls completely _off_ the bed, but it’s only May—not MJ.

He spends another half hour talking to her, and assuring her that everyone is fine and healthy and that he’s _not_ dead. It takes a while to calm her down from her freak out, and then they finally talk about what he’s been doing (he leaves out the embarrassing details) and what _she’s_ been doing. As refreshing as it is to talk to her again, he doesn’t let her know anything’s wrong. One because she’s _already_ worried enough, and then two because he’s not exactly comfortable telling the world MJ’s business.

After reassuring her about ten times that he’s okay and everything’s going great, they tell each other bye, recite their “I love you”s, and then he’s laying on the bed again.

He checks his phone obsessively, but MJ never replies. It’s about six when he sees the sky getting darker from not only the storm, but the sunset too. He decides to get up and finally _do_ something; not to follow her or annoy her, but just make sure she’s okay. He’s worried sick.

So he walks outside into the pouring rain, running quickly with his hand over his head to get to Jennifer and Jordan’s bungalow. It doesn’t help, really, since he’s still soaking wet by the time he gets there, but still.

“Have you guys, um, seen MJ?” He asks, crossing his arms uncomfortably as he looks at them. Jordan and Jennifer are cuddled up at the head of the bed, while Abby is at the foot of it on her phone.

They’re watching a horror movie so the lights are out, but he switches the light on to see if MJ’s there anywhere. She isn’t.

“She came by like, three movies ago. She looked upset,” Abby tells him, shrugging.

“Yeah, she was actually crying I think,” Jennifer tells him, but they don’t really seem to care. “But I couldn’t really tell since it was raining.”

“Did she say anything? Did she tell you where she was going, or what she was doing, or…” he breathes out then, trying to calm himself down. “I just need to know if she’s okay.”

“Oh, I think she’s more than okay,” Abby laughs, pausing the movie and now setting her feet on the floor, looking up at him. “She asked if we had any alcohol—left with a bottle of something.”

“And you _let_ her?!” he exclaims, breathing out and pushing his fingers through his hair. “You knew she was upset, and the weather is _god_ awful, and you just _let_ her take a bottle of alcohol with her and walk out? Did you even ask what was wrong?”

“Relax, Peter, she’ll be fine,” Abby laughs, pressing her hand to his arm. Then, squeezing it slightly and tilting her head to the side, she says, “Just watch a movie with us. She’ll be back soon I’m sure.”

“She could be passed out alone somewhere from being too drunk, or she could be in this awful weather, or...God, or _both!”_ he breathes out, pulling his arm from her grip. “I’m gonna call her. Please just let me know if you see or hear anything, okay? I’ve been worried all day, and I just hoped she had been with you guys.”

“We’ll let you know,” Jordan nods at him, but Abby and Jennifer _still_ couldn’t care less that their cousin is practically missing.

“Thanks,” Peter tells him, before running back to their room. It’s still flooding, and there’s still thunder and lightning, and Peter feels like he could cry he’s so upset.

His hands tremble as he fumbles for his phone, wiping his wet hand against his pants before shakily dialing her number. No answer.

He dials it again, but there’s _still_ no answer. He texts her then, saying _“Just let me know you’re okay.”_

After fifteen minutes without a text back, he nervously paces around the room, thinking. What can he do? He doesn’t want to keep bothering her if she _is_ okay, but he’d never forgive himself if she was in danger and he did nothing to help. Plus, all of this feels ten times worse now that he knows she has alcohol with her.

So he takes in a nervous breath, grabs a jacket, and makes his way through the front door. He stands there in the rain, pulling his hood over his head, and searches. He glances down past the row of bungalows, but it’s getting dark now and he doesn’t see her. He’s getting ready to make a run for it down the dock, but then he notices something: only _one_ of the bungalows’ blinds are closed, and it’s one that’s not supposed to be occupied.

He takes a second to think _“please let MJ be in there, please let MJ be in there,”_ before he takes off running. The door’s locked when he makes it, and although he knocks on it, he doesn’t get an answer.

“MJ, please, if you’re in there...just open up!” he pleads, pounding his fist on the door. “Please!”

But still, nothing. So he runs quickly back to his room, fumbles through his jeans to find his wallet, and then he goes _back_ to the bungalow.

“I’m coming in!” he yells, not even sure if she _is_ in there, as he kneels down and jams his library card between the door. It takes a few minutes of jiggling the card and moving it around, but it finally, _finally_ latches open, and he gulps as he walks in, shutting the door behind him. He pushes his cold, wet hair out of his face, before flipping the light switch on to illuminate the pitch black room.

“I told you not to follow me,” he hears MJ mutter from the bed, curled up on her side with a half-empty bottle of whiskey under her arm.

“It’s been hours,” he gulps, only happy to see her _safe_ . “You didn’t call or text, and I went over to your cousins and they said you had alcohol when you left, and…” he stops, hearing his own voice shake. He breathes in. “Besides, I was so worried that it would have been _worth_ you never forgiving me just to know you were okay.”

“You don’t have to pretend you care about me,” she laughs bitterly, sitting up and loudly setting the bottle down on the nightstand. Her words are slurred and she’s swaying everytime she moves, and he knows she’s much drunker than he’s ever seen her. “The week’s almost over, and you’ll get to go back to your apartment and to Ned and to May and all of this will finally be over for you. Just like you wanted.”

“Jesus, MJ, is it so hard to realize that someone could _actually_ care about you? And care about what happens to you?” he gulps, slowly walking over to sit beside her on the bed.

“It is hard, actually,” she nods with a sad laugh, and he hears her sniffing and sees her wiping the tears from her eyes, and it’s gut wrenching. “I’m...sorry about what I said. I don’t hate you. You were just right, and I didn’t want to face it, and I thought I was going to throw up. I was angry with you for making me realize something that I didn’t want to realize. I don’t have _anyone_ besides you and Ned, and I _don’t_ even really have either of you. I had to beg you to come on this trip with me.”

“MJ, I didn’t even know you then,” he tells her, looking down at her hand. He wants to reach down and grab it in his, comfort her, feel her skin on his, but...he doesn’t. “I didn’t really know you at all. And I’m sorry about the way I treated you, and the way I talked to you. I didn’t...I never knew.”

“Don’t apologize,” she shakes her head, drunkenly moving her hand farther up the bed to steady herself. “I just...I see you and Ned sometimes, and I see the way you and May actually _love_ each other. I’ve always wanted that. But I don’t know how, and I don’t know how to be likeable, and I don’t know how to care about people the way I should, and I definitely don’t know how to get them to care about me.”

“I...care about you. A lot,” he breathes out, looking in her eyes as she turns to face him. Then, as an afterthought, he adds: “And...and Ned does, too. We both care about you.”

“You just feel bad for me,” she gulps, shaking her head. “There’s a difference.”

“It’s...god, it’s not because I feel bad for you, MJ,” he tells her, trying to rack his brain on ways to prove her wrong. “You may not think you’re capable of caring, but you are. When you asked about my fear of heights at the waterfall and told me we could go back down, that’s you caring. When you stayed back on the dock to ask me if I was okay because you noticed I was anxious, that’s you caring. And me being here now, after being worried sick about you and just hoping and praying that you were okay...that’s me caring about you, too.”

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks at him, her eyebrows furrowing sadly. She never has emotions like this when she’s sober.

She glances at his lips, then up to his eyes, before leaning in slowly. He tries to breathe, but can’t, as she sets her hand on his arm and messily presses her lips against his. She sighs against him, desperately grasping at his shirt and neck and anything else she can find to pull him closer. But the taste of alcohol on her breath is overwhelming, and it brings him back to reality, and back to how awful this whole situation is. He feels his stomach turn with guilt.

“We can’t,” he pulls back, and she’s panting as she looks at him, confusion written all over her face. “Not...not like this.”

“But I _want_ you,” she mutters over a heavy breath, grabbing his hand and setting it on her thigh, spreading her legs.

“No, MJ, we _can’t,”_ he replies, firmer now as he stands up, pulling his hand away from her. “You kissed me when you were drunk out of your mind. That doesn’t mean you _want_ me. You did it because you’re plastered, and because I’m being a decent human being to you and you _think_ it means you want me.”

“That’s not why,” she replies simply, quietly, and he looks up at her, and she’s already looking at him. She doesn’t explain further, but his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest as she looks at him, giving a tiny, drunken, half-lidded smile.

“Let’s...let’s go back to our room, okay? You need to get some sleep.” he breathes out, taking his jacket off and putting it around her, before sweeping her up in his arms. She wraps her long arms around his neck and sighs contently, nuzzling her face against his collarbone. He just holds her tighter, as he ducks his head and carries her back to their room.

He brings her into the bathroom and sets her up on the counter, pulling his jacket from her arms and tossing it on the floor. He doesn’t look at her too long, and he _definitely_ doesn’t look in her eyes; he has a mission, and if he does either of those things, he knows he’ll get distracted.

“Peter,” she presses her hand to her stomach, and his eyes widen, before he hurriedly hauls her to the toilet. They make it _just_ in time; MJ spewing out vomit into it as soon as she makes it. He leans down and pulls her hair out of her face, turning the other way.

“Shit,” she gasps before heaving again, throwing up everything in her stomach. After she’s finished, she lays against the wall lazily and Peter flushes the toilet.

“I’m gonna get a cold rag,” he tells her, going back to the sink and digging a small towel from a cabinet, before drenching it in cold water and wringing it out. He goes back and sits down in front of her, pressing the cool rag to her forehead, then to her cheeks, then to her neck.

“That feels good,” she gulps, her eyes fluttering shut. He feels like this is all his fault.

“Good,” he smiles, watching her. Even now—sweaty and intoxicated and sick—she’s still breathtaking.

“I bet you’re glad I didn’t wait until now to kiss you, huh?” she smiles, her eyes barely open.

“Definitely,” he replies with a small laugh, moving the rag back to her forehead. As disgusting as it might be, he probably _would_ still kiss her right now.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?” he tells her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet, and then leading her back to the sink. He brushes her teeth and pulls her hair back, lets her use the bathroom in privacy, and then he helps her to bed—too scared of her staggering movements to let her walk there alone.

“I’m so wet right now,” she groans, falling against the end of the bed in exhaustion. “And when I say that, I mean my clothes—not at all in reference to being horny. Although-”

“Shut up,” he laughs and shakes his head, and she smiles too, as he helps her pull her hoodie over her head, and then her sweatpants off her legs.

“I’ll grab you some pajamas,” he tells her, throwing her wet clothes in the same pile they had from earlier; except now since he took a shower, they’re all stacked up messily on the floor and _not_ in the shower.

“No, I don’t want them,” she yawns, before sluggishly crawling across the bed, and sighing happily as she makes it under the covers.

“Okay, well at least drink some water,” he tells her, having to open it and hold her head up and give it to her like he did the other night.

“Turn the light off,” she tells him, her head sinking into the pillow with another yawn as he twists the cap back onto the top of the water bottle lid.

“Yeah, yeah,” he tells her with a laugh, turning it off and climbing into bed himself.

This time she doesn’t hesitate; she rolls over to him and pulls his arm around her, settling it on her stomach. He’s shocked at the sudden contact, but he adjusts fairly quickly, and shifts slightly until he’s comfortable. His face is in her hair, and his arm is tucked securely around her, and their legs are twisted together at the end of the bed.

Not for any other reason than just wanting to be near her, he presses his lips softly against the back of her neck and holds it there for a moment, before pressing another kiss to her bare shoulder. And then he lays his head back down and falls asleep, never knowing he could be this content until right now—while he’s laying here messily tangled up with her.


	7. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start out by saying I LOVE you guys!! My inbox has been filled with love the past week, and I couldn't be more grateful. SPECIAL thank you to @ladyfilms on instagram, who made an AMAZING edit for this fic—go check them out they're AMAZING!!! I love all of you guys on twitter too!!
> 
> This chapter is super long lmao I hope you all like it. Just a heads up, if you don't know the song "Endless Love" by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross, I suggest listening now!

He wakes up with their sweaty bodies pressed together, and MJ’s fingers laced with his, and his face nuzzled against her neck. He sits back slightly and looks at her, not even feeling like last night actually even _happened._

He lays against her for a little while, just savoring this moment in its entirety. He feels amazing, content, happy, and he wishes he could stay like this forever.

He knows she was drunk, but he still can’t believe she allowed him to _ever_ be this close to her anyway.

But it doesn’t take him long to remember what it was like to be cuddling with her two mornings ago, when she woke up in a panic thinking it was _his_ fault. He knows he can’t leave it like his. As much as he doesn’t want to, he unpeals his body from hers, and unclasps his fingers from hers, and quietly backs up to his side of the bed. He looks over at her, a surprising amount of sunshine pouring through the window—especially after the downfall of rain yesterday. He stares at her, seeing her shift and pull the blanket up to her chin with a sleepy sigh.

He gulps as he watches her, suddenly finding that it’s harder to breathe. He thinks over last night: their fight, how drunk she was, the way she kissed him, the way she held onto him and pulled him closer as she fell asleep. And all of the things she told him about herself.

This all just makes him so incredibly confused. They only fight and get annoyed while sober—but the second that one of them starts drinking, it feels different. Their kissing feels different, the way they talk to each other feels different, the way they touch feels different. And he doesn’t understand why.

And he finds himself propping his head on his hand to watch her sleep, just to see the way she breathes and the way she sighs and the way she brushes her hair from her face while she dreams.

Her hand is there on the pillow, and he stares at it for a moment, before slowly reaching over and gently setting _his_ hand on top of it. He swallows thickly and lays his head back down on the pillow, feeling her soft, warm skin against his, and seeing the way she lets out a small, unconscious huff when he touches her.

Is this what it would be like to wake up to her every day?

“God, did someone beat the hell out of me last night or what?” MJ groans, blinking her eyes open. Peter hurriedly pulls his hand back and off of hers before she realizes it’s there. “I feel like someone actually dragged my ass through hell and back. Or I might still be in hell, I don’t know. That’s sort of what it feels like.”

“What do you mean?” Peter laughs nervously, confused at why _she’s_ confused. “It’s probably just a hangover.”

MJ sits there for a second and thinks, before rolling over and looking at Peter.

“It’s all a huge blur,” she sighs and rubs her eyes, before pressing her fingers to her temples. “What happened? I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, did I? Like laugh at one of your jokes?”

Peter sits there in shock, just looking at her. Does she really not remember? _Any_ of it?

“You...you don’t remember?” he asks, sitting up to look at her.

“I mean, I remember our fight or whatever, and then I went to Jenn’s and grabbed some of her whiskey, but nothing really after that,” she shrugs, sighing. “Why? Did I do something? Do we know each other biblically now?”

“No,” he shakes his head, gulping. “Nothing really happened. I just went and found you and brought you back, and then put you to bed.”

“And I assume we made up because I don’t really feel mad at you anymore,” she replies, blinking at him. “Not more than usual, at least.”

“Yeah, we did,” he nods, fighting the urge to reach up and rub the back of his neck. But he now knows what that means, and he knows that _she_ knows what that means, so he holds back from it.

He’s not exactly sure what to do from here. He hadn’t even considered the fact that she really _was_ drunk enough to not remember things from last night. But he feels bad now, and he doesn’t want to bring up the kiss or the intimate conversation, because he doesn’t want to make _her_ feel awkward about it. So he just decides to leave it alone and let her stay in the dark. It’ll at least make _one_ of them feel better about it.

“Why are you acting weird?” she asks, looking at him curiously. He tries not to focus on her furrowed eyebrows, or the curly hair she’s now pulling back into a scrunchie, and he _definitely_ forces himself not to think of the way she kissed him last night.

“I’m not acting weird,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I just feel bad about the fight yesterday and everything. I’m just...sorry.”

“Um,” she breathes out, the topic apparently still touchy. It’s weird seeing her joking and laughing now, pretending everything’s okay when he now knows that it’s not. But she doesn’t know he knows. “It’s...okay. Let’s just not talk about it.”

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, watching her get up out of bed and dig some Aspirin from her suitcase. He feels weird knowing all of those personal details about her now that she doesn’t even _know_ he knows. It feels wrong—especially since she’s _so_ private about all of that stuff.

“Looks like the sun’s out again unfortunately,” MJ groans, covering her eyes from the blinding light coming through the window. “Remind me to never drink again, okay?”

“I always do, but you never listen,” he laughs, yawning and lying back down against his pillow, tucking his arm beneath it. He thinks about how that same arm was wrapped around MJ last night, this morning, and _she’s_ the one who pulled it over herself, wanting it there.

“After feeling this awful today...I think I just might _actually_ have to listen next time,” she shakes her head, falling back into bed next to him after downing the rest of her water bottle.

She closes her eyes and sighs, snuggling into her pillow again comfortably. He watches her, unable to fight the tiny smile that’s on his lips.

“God, I want to go back to sleep but it’s stupidly bright in here, and my mouth is so dry that my tongue feels like sandpaper, and my head feels like an elephant just stomped on it.” she whines, before she pulls her pillow up and over her head, then groans into their sheet. “And god, did I throw up last night? I still have that burning barf sensation in the back of my throat.”

“Yeah, you did,” he answers, knowing he should probably reply with a quip or a jab, but he doesn’t. “You got pretty sick.”

“How awesome,” she replies, her voice still muffled from the blankets and pillows and sheets.

“If...if it’ll make you feel better, I can shut the blinds and get you some more water and rub your head if you want,” he mutters out, already regretting it as soon as he opened his mouth. “I’ve gotten some practice in since May has migraines sometimes.”

MJ’s silent and completely still under the blankets, and Peter feels like the biggest _idiot_ of all time. _He_ can’t even understand what’s going on with himself right now; the only thing he knows is that _something_ about last night changed the way he views her. And as much as he hates it, he’s pretty sure it’s guilt and pity.

“Are you just being nice to me because you feel bad about our fight?” she pulls her head up, staring at him. This is actually better than what he _thought_ was going to happen, which was MJ accusing him of being nervous because of his attraction to her. “Actually, the reasoning doesn’t even really matter; I’ll take you up on that offer if it means a free head rub.”

He thinks about at the spa when she told him about her discomfort in being touched, and his heart warms when he realizes, for sure now, that he _is_ an exception to that rule.

Trying to hide this weird, overly-nice side he’s had all morning, he replies: “I’m only doing this so you’ll finally stop whining and complaining for once in your life.”

“Yeah, it _could_ be that. _Or_ it could be the fact that you just want to have a reason to put your hands on me again.” she smiles with feign innocence, watching him close the blinds, then grab a water from the fridge, then make his way back over to her. He just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but this time it’s in pretend annoyance and denial.

He’s pretty sure he just really, _really_ needs to get a breath of fresh air. And probably “blow off some steam” too, just to clear his mind and let himself start thinking straight again. Because this is getting ridiculous, and it’s distracting, and the fact that she’s purposely doing it to him makes it even worse.

“You caught me,” he sighs sarcastically, sitting back down on the bed and handing her the water bottle. “So May usually just…I don’t know, puts a pillow on my lap and lays on it and we do it that way,” he tells MJ, already _knowing_ she’s going to make a suggestive comment about this. “But however you want to do it is fine.”

“Laying on your lap is fine with me,” she says, and he’s shocked for a second when she says that without giving him a wink or a laugh or a teasing bite of her lip. But then she looks at him and says: “As long as you don’t get any more boners, of course. That might be uncomfortable.”

“Okay, can you finally stop messing with me about that?” he groans, now stacking pillows against the head of the bed so _he’ll_ be comfortable laying against it. “It was _once,_ and it sucked, but…it isn’t like _you_ aren’t susceptible to being turned on either! I just…can’t tell _when.”_

“Are you referring to me being wet, Peter?” she raises an eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. He blushes like an absolute _idiot._

“Yeah, I am, actually,” he shrugs, swallowing thickly. He’s trying to defend himself but he’s not sure it’s working very well. Or not in the way he wanted it to, at least. “It just sucks that you could _instantly_ tell the _one_ time I was turned on, when _you_ could have been this entire time and I just didn’t know it. So I can’t mess with you about it like you mess with _me_ about it.”

“I mean if you want proof _that bad,_ then you’re welcome to feel for yourself if you’d like,” she shrugs, looking at him with a slight tilt of her head. Is she talking about what he thinks she’s talking about? “But only with your mouth.”

His jaw actually _drops_ then in shock, and she’s laughing, and he’s _forcing_ himself not to imagine that thought.

“I literally didn’t think the jokes could be _any_ cruder.”

“They can _always_ be cruder.”

“Let’s please not test that theory.”

“Why? Scared you’d like it?”

“No, just scared I’d get a visual and involuntarily start blowing chunks like _you_ did last night.”

“You mean get a visual and get an erection?”

“No, I definitely meant throw up,” he replies with a huff, finalizing the conversation. She just smiles. “Just lay down so we can get this over with.”

“That’s not usually how _I_ like to start off a dirty talk session, but I guess it can still get the job done,” she shrugs, grabs her pillow and puts it down on his lap, and then settles her head there. “So I know you wanted this to be intimate and everything, but can we turn the TV on? My lack of blue light consumption this week is causing severe withdrawals.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs the remote and switches it on, changing the channels until MJ insists they watch Wheel of Fortune. So they do.

“Ready?” Peter asks, somewhat nervously hesitating his hands above her head.

“Wait a sec,” she replies, sitting up slightly and pulling the scrunchy from her hair, before laying back down and saying, “Okay, now I’m ready.”

He takes in a breath, before pushing his fingers through her hair. He’s tense at first for some reason, this whole situation seeming weird and uncomfortable. But when she starts yelling out answers to Wheel of Fortune, he starts focusing on that more and playing along with her. So eventually, before even realizing it, they’re both playing the game, and his back is relaxed against the headboard, and his thumbs are absentmindedly pressing into her temples. He looks at her while she watches the TV; smiling sometimes, frowning sometimes, yelling out answers. As hard as he tries, he can’t look away from her.

About half an hour later, right as he’s about to tell MJ his hands are tired and he’s done rubbing her head, he looks down to see her already asleep. Her eyes are shut and her breathing is steady, and her arm is draped over his leg. He laughs a little and tries his hardest not to wake her as he reaches down, pulling the blanket up and over her curled up legs. And then he gulps, lightly using the backs of his fingers to trace along her jaw, her cheek, trying to ignore the quickening of his heartbeat as he feels her smooth, warm skin against his.

After realizing how weird that actually probably is, he moves his hand back and relaxes against the headboard again, now laying down himself. She shifts then in her sleep, letting out an unconscious sigh, before wrapping her arm around his leg, getting closer. He watches her for a while after that, just content seeing her slow, steady breath. And then, eventually, he falls asleep too.

They wake up to the sound of three _extremely_ loud knocks on the door, followed by Abby yelling, “We need you guys to help us set up the party!”

MJ just groans and rolls over, and Peter sits up with a yawn, feeling an awful crick in his neck from sleeping mostly upright.

“Michelle? Peter? Seriously, guys, are you in there?” Jennifer now yells, and MJ groans _again,_ before finally sitting up.

“We’ll be out in five!” MJ yells out, before leaning over and rubbing her temples.

“Is your hangover any better?” Peter asks, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

“Yeah, mostly,” she sighs, pulling her hair back again. “What time is it?”

“It’s…” Peter starts, then looks at his phone. “Almost twelve thirty.”

“Shit,” MJ laughs, now setting her feet on the ground and standing up. She’s still in her bra and underwear from last night, but he tries not to act like it bothers him. “That explains why I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Peter agrees, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

She pulls some shorts and a shirt on, and then right as he’s coming out of the bathroom, she’s going in. He gets dressed and attempts to fix his hair while she brushes her teeth, and then they’re ready to go.

“Finally!” Jennifer laughs, walking up to them on the dock. Jordan’s beside her—his arm casually over her shoulder—but Abby’s nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Abby?” MJ asks, looking around. Then Jennifer points down the dock, laughing as both MJ and Peter turn to look.

“She’s over there _heavily_ flirting with that cute snack bar boy,” Jennifer laughs, sighing and shaking her head. “At least it’s not one of _our_ boyfriends this time though, right?”

“Yeah,” MJ nods, laughing quietly. Peter looks down at the dock, trying to fight the fact that he’s jealous that _she’s_ jealous.

And _why_ exactly is he jealous? Maybe they’ve been faking this for too long.

“Let’s go—the party stuff just got here,” Jennifer tells them, pulling Jordan along with her down the dock.

“I knew she’d go after him,” MJ tells Peter, waiting to be out of earshot of her cousin.

“So what?” Peter says, trying to act unbothered. Then, right after that thought, he reminds himself that he actually _is_ unbothered—he doesn’t have to just _act_ like he is.

 _“So_ we had a thing going,” she tells him, rolling her eyes. “Duh.”

He doesn’t reply. He just keeps walking, ignoring his thoughts, ignoring _everything,_ actually, and trying to focus solely on the sound of the crashing waves surrounding them.

“Hey, MJ,” Jason stands taller and waves, trying to get her attention as they pass the snack bar. He even ignores Abby to do it—something she is _very_ clearly not happy about.

MJ seems pleased, waving back and saying hi too, before moving along and continuing to follow Jennifer. Peter can feel Abby staring MJ down in annoyance, but he’s too scared to turn and look, so he ignores it and keeps walking beside her.  

“So we’re gonna have, like, a luau-themed party,” Jennifer tells them, picking up a tiki torch decoration and waving it around with a smile. “Um, I was thinking we could have a small platform right here in front of the tennis court where we could do karaoke, right?”

She explains their entire plans to him, MJ, and Jordan, before Abby comes back over to help setup. So then they unload the boxes; Peter trying to not make eye contact at _all_ with Abby in the process.

“Don’t you think this party theme is sort of...I don’t know, offensive?” he whispers over to MJ, looking at all of the decorations.

“Oh, definitely,” she nods, already seeming to notice herself.

They set up the tiki torches, string up lights along both bars, setup the karaoke machine, put pineapples and coconuts down in the sand, and put air in a blow up limbo game.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the snack bar and grab some water,” Peter tells everyone, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Does anyone want anything?”

MJ, Jordan, and Jennifer ask him to get them all waters, and MJ _also_ asks for a hotdog, too. Abby’s sitting down on her phone, already drinking a cocktail, so Peter nods at them and makes his way to the snack bar.

He orders then and is again surprised at how nice Jason is to him, even though he’s pretty sure he had been accidentally giving him a really mean look as he approached the bar. And then he feels bad that Jason’s being nice to him, so he thinks it all over while Jason gets their waters and hotdogs (Peter ordered one too), and decides that he’s _not_ going to be this jealous, testosterone-driven guy he’s always hated. He’s just going to face it all head on, and get it out of the way.

“I hope this isn’t weird, but...what do you think about MJ?” Peter asks him, gathering the water bottles in his arms and gulping.

“Oh man, she’s _so_ cool and beautiful, you know?” Jason smiles, nodding. Peter doesn’t really know what he _expected_ him to say, but his heart still sinks regardless. “But hey, dude, I’d never go after your girl. Not cool.”

“My girl?” Peter asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Didn’t she say they had a thing going? Weren’t they flirting in secret on purpose just so he _wouldn’t_ think she and Peter were together?

“Yeah, man, she told me about you guys’ relationship a few nights ago,” Jason nods, seeming oblivious to the fact that Peter’s confused. “You’re lucky!”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, still trying to process all of this at once. “Yeah, I definitely am.”

“Okay, enjoy your food!” Jason smiles as Peter walks away. He’s trying to figure out what’s going on at the _same_ time that he’s also trying to hold four water bottles and two hotdogs.

They all take a break when he gets back, sitting down on the tennis court to enjoy their water and hotdogs. Peter purposely distances he and MJ from the others so he can talk to her.

“So I actually just talked to Jason about you,” Peter tells her, keeping his voice low. She chokes a little on her hotdog, but then quickly recovers and swallows it down.

“Uh...why exactly?” She asks, whipping her head around to look at him.

“Doesn’t matter _why_ ,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of _his_ hotdog now. He chews it up and swallows it, taking his time because he knows MJ’s _extremely_ curious now. And he’s enjoying watching her get squeamish over it. “So _he_ said that you told him we were dating. But I thought you two had a _thing_ going, so I’m sort of confused.”

“I obviously couldn’t risk my family knowing about me flirting with Jason, Peter,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes, taking another bite. “Besides, the _thing_ we have is...more in my mind, really.”

“Yeah, but you could have just as easily told him the truth, though,” he shrugs and smiles, taking another bite of his hotdog too. “You know, told him we were faking it so your family would get off your back. He seems pretty laid back; I’m sure he’d understand.”

“What exactly do you think is going on here?” she narrows her eyes, looking annoyed with him.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He asks, shrugging. “I _assume_ you were trying to make me jealous about him, but if-”

“-I was _not_ trying to make you jealous,” she interrupts him and laughs incredulously, shoving the rest of her hotdog in her mouth, chewing it, and then saying, “I would _never_ try to make you jealous. Mostly because I don’t _have_ to try—I could tell you already were.”

“I wasn’t even a _little_ bit jealous,” he scoffs, gulping down his water. “I don’t care what you do or…or _who_ you do.”

“The fact that you just _had_ to clarify that means that you probably do care,” she rolls her eyes, as he eats the last bit of his hotdog.

“Yeah, you wish,” he says through a full mouth, wiping his lips with a napkin.

“You _wish_ I’d wish,” she huffs, standing up. “I’m done with this conversation. You’re so ridiculous.”

 _“You_ are,” he replies, handing her his trash as she goes to throw it away.

He lays down on the tennis court then, closing his eyes and soaking up the warm sun. He feels a shadow hanging over him, and he smiles and says, “That was fast.”

But when he opens his eyes, it’s not MJ—it’s Abby.

“Oh sorry, I thought you were MJ,” he laughs, sitting up slightly. He has absolutely _no_ idea what’s going on, and it’s making him nervous.

“It’s okay,” she laughs, sitting down beside him. “I was just thinking about it, and...I don’t know, I just feel bad about yesterday. When you came to Jenn’s room?”

She puts his hand on his leg then, smiling and getting slightly closer to him. He looks down at her hand, completely in disbelief that this is _actually_ happening right now. MJ warned him, but he thought she might have been exaggerating a little.

“You were worried about Michelle, and I was just...I don’t know, jealous, I guess? You’re just really cute, and I feel guilty for thinking that because she’s my cousin, you know?” She sighs, biting her lip and tilting her head and now rubbing her hand on his leg. Peter sees MJ from the corner of his eye, making her way towards them. “I just didn’t know how to react, and I feel bad. I hope you can forgive me.”

He thinks about MJ, and the look Abby was giving her earlier after Jason had interrupted her just to _talk_ to MJ. Abby’s obviously trying to get back at her, even though it wasn’t even MJ’s fault.

But Peter suddenly notices the annoyed face on MJ as she approaches them, and sees the way her arms are crossed as she sees Abby’s hand on his leg, and something about that makes Peter feel _good._

“Yeah, that’s okay, Abby,” he nods and smiles at her, putting his hand on top of the one of hers that’s on his leg. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What are we talking about?” MJ asks, putting on this awful fake smile as she stands there looking down on them.

“We’re just talking about something from yesterday,” Peter shrugs, purposely being vague to her. She grits her teeth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to start a fight or anything,” Abby laughs innocently, before removing her hand from his leg.

She thinks she was successful, but she wasn’t. Not in the way she thought, at least. _She_ was trying to get MJ back for the Jason thing by flirting with Peter, but the fact that they _aren’t_ dating means MJ _isn’t_ actually hurt by it. But Peter—after seeing her annoyed at him for talking to Abby—immaturely _wants_ her to be jealous over it. Especially after he _knows_ she was trying to make him jealous with Jason—she had to have been doing it purposely.

“Excuse me,” MJ laughs, sitting down in between them and getting comfortable, before turning Peter to face her and kissing him deeply. She throws her arm around his neck then, pulling him closer, pushing her fingers through his hair and letting out a small (but loud enough for Abby to hear it) sigh.

Peter kisses her back, smiling into it triumphantly as Abby lets out an annoyed huff and walks away.

“What the _hell_ was that, Peter?” MJ pulls back, her breathing shallow as she stares him down in annoyance.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” he smiles proudly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m _not_ jealous,” she laughs out, shaking her head in disbelief. “I just...I warned you about her. And now she probably thinks since _you_ flirted back that we have a bad relationship.”

“I wasn’t _actually_ flirting with her,” he replies, laying back down and yawning. “I can’t flirt to save my life.”

“That’s true, but she _thought_ you were flirting with her,” MJ looks down at him, still annoyed. “And she’ll use that.”

“It’s not like I _like_ her or anything,” he laughs, opening his eyes to look at her. MJ’s shoulders relax.

“Good,” she nods, now laying down beside him. “Because I _swear_ I’ll never forgive you if you start hooking up. She’ll tell the whole family just to screw me over and embarrass me.”

“We won’t _hook up,”_ he shakes his head, turning to look at her. He actually feels bad now for worrying her about it, knowing she’s right. Her family is so awful. “Ever.”

“That’s exactly what Jenn’s ex said,” MJ laughs, and Peter gulps.

“I was really just messing around,” he assures her, sighing. “I would never do that to you.”

It would have been as nearly as bad if he hadn’t said “to you” at the end. It made it feel a lot weirder than it should have, and now she’s looking at him and he’s looking at her and everything feels awkward.

“Everyone ready to start again?” Jennifer asks, looking around at the four of them, standing up. “We still have lots to do!”

MJ stands up too then and Peter follows, just glad they were saved from that uncomfortable moment.

So they now unload more boxes and setup a “refreshments” table with small coconut and pineapple-shaped cups, a stack of mini umbrellas for their drinks, then they string up _more_ lights. Then they set out wooden chairs on a row in the sand that’s facing everything else—the two in the middle decorated with leaves and hibiscus flowers—and then they line basically _everything_ with a row of grass skirts.

“Okay, so it’s almost four now and this thing starts at five thirty,” Jenn states, all of them grossly sweating down from how _hot_ it is outside. “The catering and projector guy should be here around four forty-five to bring food and setup the screen, so I figured we could all go get ready, and ten get back here then. That way we can make sure everything’s set up correctly before they all get back from shopping at five fifteen.”

“Sounds great,” MJ nods, grabbing Peter’s arm and heading to the dock. Abby's relaxed against a chair, drinking her _third_ cocktail already.

“Wait! You can’t leave without your outfits, silly,” Jennifer laughs, grabbing a few things from a box, before handing it over to them. “You better be wearing this when you come back!”

“Of course,” MJ nods with a sigh, tucking the items beneath her arm. “We’ll see you guys in an hour.”

“Can’t wait!” Jennifer replies, waving behind them.

“This should be such a blast,” MJ says in sarcasm, looking down at the various items in her hands.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about the party?” Peter asks, right as MJ opens the door to their room. “Is there a reason?”

“Um…” she hesitates, narrowing her eyes and trying to think. “My family just does things...a certain way.”

“What does that mean exactly?” he asks, watching her pull her shirt off.

“They’re just weird,” she shrugs, still not going into detail about it. “It’s not some human sacrifice or something if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking that until you said it,” he laughs a little, breathing out. “I just don’t get why you can’t tell me.”

“Because it’s not, like, one specific thing they do, Parker,” she laughs, shaking her head as she pulls her shorts off too. He feels weird just standing here, but now he’s getting more and more nervous about the party and wants to figure this out. “Seriously, you’re making this a way bigger deal than it actually is. I just didn’t want to make you all anxious thinking about it or whatever—that’s why I didn’t tell you. That’s it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, letting out a relaxed breath.

“Yeah,” she laughs, patting him on the shoulder as she makes her way to the shower. “Now unless you want to see my fully wet, naked body in this shower within the next five seconds, you might want to leave now. But if you _do_ want to see that, then take a seat and enjoy the show.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he sighs, making his way through the back door and falling down into the chair there. Like every other night, he sits and admires the sky, and the water, and _everything_ around him.

“Your turn,” MJ swings the back door open twenty minutes later, already making her way to her suitcase when he walks in. She has a flower in her hair, a coconut bra on, a _short_ grass skirt around her waist, and a pink and green lei draped around her neck.

“Don’t even say anything about the outfit,” MJ shakes her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “Apparently we have to hypersexualize cultural appropriation now, too. My family are a bunch of idiots.”

“All I have is a pair of green shorts and a lei,” he replies, looking down at his outfit that’s lying on the bed. “Do I need to just wear my own shirt then?”

“I think it’s implied that you _aren’t_ supposed to wear a shirt,” she shrugs, laughing a little. He gulps. Then, smiling, she walks out and says, “I’ll let you take your shower.”

He looks down at the shorts with a sigh, completely nervous for this party. Of course he would rather be able to wear a shirt—especially while around MJ’s crazy cousin—but that’s not his biggest concern. They haven’t really _all_ been together doing something at once yet, and the thought of actually _having_ to soon makes Peter want to fake sick again. The drama with Abby is bad enough, but then there’s the fact that MJ’s mom is going to be there, and also the fact that MJ _just_ told him her family does weird things. Not that he didn’t know that already, but still—it’s very disconcerting.

So he just shakes his thoughts away and takes his shower, trying not to dwell on any of it for too long.

He goes and gets MJ once he puts on his shorts and lei, opening the door for her.

“How...festive,” she looks at him and smiles, glancing over his shorts and lei and lack of shirt.

“You’re one to talk, coconut bra,” he laughs and walks to the bathroom, fixing his hair.

“Shut up,” she groans, falling back on the bed and sighing. He makes sure to tuck away any loose strand of hair, before walking back into the room.

“Ready?” he asks, standing by the door now.

It’s impossible for him to look at her now without picturing her crying, and lonely, and upset, and vulnerable. He wishes she could show him that without being drunk.

“No, but I don’t think I’ll ever be,” she sighs, standing up. “So I guess we might as well go now.”

“Wait,” he stops her, before going to grab his phone.

“What are you doing?” she asks, curiously watching him.

“Ned’s been dying for a picture of us,” Peter laughs, opening up the camera. “So I thought _maybe_ if we sent one he’d finally stop blowing my phone up all day.”

“Doubtful, but worth a shot,” she shrugs, laughing a little. “Man, I miss Ned.”

“Me too,” Peter agrees with a sigh, before MJ grabs the phone from his hand, and holds it up to take the picture. Then she counts down to one, both of them smiling, before she turns and kisses his cheek right at the last second. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing in the picture.

“Send him that,” MJ grins, shoving the phone against his chest. “He’ll be over the moon for _weeks.”_

“You could have told me you were doing that,” Peter laughs a little, suddenly feeling warm and antsy.

“Nah, it would have taken forever to convince you,” MJ shrugs, crossing her arms. “It had to be a surprise or it would have never worked.”

Peter just shakes his head as he sends the picture to Ned, and then sets his phone down on the nightstand before following MJ outside.

“Yay you guys are here!” they hear from across the dock, looking over to see Jennifer waving at them and lighting the tiki torches. “Look how beautiful it is!”

They walk down the dock now, and Peter has to admit that it really _is_ beautiful. They made a walkway lined with lit tiki torches all the way from the dock over to their party setup, and it’s incredibly beautiful now that the sun’s beginning to set.

“Like it?” Jennifer’s standing there proudly, her and Abby now in their matching coconut bra and grass skirts like MJ. Jordan’s also in green shorts and a lei, too.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” MJ laughs, looking around. “Seriously looks great. Good job, Jenn.”

“You guys helped! Well the food’s all here so we have to get that put out, but everything else is finished. I even put their outfits on their beds!” she claps giddily, walking over to the snack table. “And the projector screen looks and works great!”

“Pretty sure she’s been drinking,” MJ whispers to Peter, laughing a little. That explains a lot.

“Okay, so there’s fresh mango salsa, chicken kebabs, sweet rolls, pulled pork, pineapple upside down cake, and then that jug over there is filled with fruit punch,” Jennifer tells them, pointing to each item on the table. “If you guys can just rearrange that to look nice, then Jordan and I can get the drinks together.”

“Sounds great,” MJ nods, her and Peter moving down the table to set out the food. “God, this is making me hungry.”

“Almost time to eat,” Peter laughs, nudging her arm.

They move the food around and onto platters, and then they set out utensils and napkins and plates beside it.

“Oh shit,” MJ laughs, turning to look at Jennifer and Jordan, who are now pulling three _massive_ bottles of alcohol from a box.

Peter leans over MJ to see what she’s seeing, watching now as Jennifer unscrews the top and takes a gulp of what Peter assumes is vodka. She makes a slight face as it burns down her throat, and then she hands it to Jordan who takes an even _bigger_ swig, and then Abby rushes forward with a smile, taking it from him. She takes the largest gulp of all of them, and her face is completely unchanging as she swallows it down.

“You guys want some?” Jordan asks, smiling as he holds out the bottle towards them.

“Nah, not yet,” MJ laughs, waving him off. Peter is horrified. “Empty stomach.”

“Let’s get this party started!” Jennifer laughs, now pouring the almost-full bottle of vodka into the top of the punch dispenser, before using a wooden spoon to mix it all in.

“Oh my God, that much is going to _kill_ them,” Peter whispers to MJ, his eyes wide. “That’s like an 8:1 vodka-to-punch ratio.”

“They’ve done worse,” MJ laughs and nudges his arm, shaking her head at them. “Trust me.”

“Oh, they just pulled up! Where’s the blindfolds?” Jennifer asks, scrambling around to find them. “Got them! Be right back.”

She takes off running and makes it before they can open their doors, forcing them all to put on their blindfolds and guiding them back to their rooms to put on their costumes.

Peter and MJ hurriedly try and fix everything and put it into place quickly, before Jennifer runs back out and helps them for a few more minutes.

“Are you ready for us?!” Kyra asks, sounding thrilled.

“Yeah, come out!” Jennifer smiles, hugging up to Jordan in excitement. Peter grabs MJ’s hand too, smiling himself at her aunt’s reaction.

“Oh, it’s so incredibly beautiful!” her aunt walks up in her luau outfit, hand-in-hand with John, who’s also smiling and in _his_ outfit. MJ’s mom is behind them in her normal clothes, not looking very happy. “You guys did this yourself?!”

“Yes,” Jennifer smiles, raising her chin proudly. Abby’s already filling up a pineapple cup with the spiked punch, not even caring about any of it.

“I _adore_ it,” Kyra laughs, throwing her arms around them all in a hug. John walks behind her, shaking all of their hands and nodding to thank them.

After they get that out of the way, Jordan sets up the projector while they all line up for food. MJ’s ahead of him, and by the time he gets his food, she’s handing him back a punch-filled coconut cup with a pink straw and blue umbrella on the top.

“No way,” he shakes his head, laughing. The rest of them are already in their chairs, practically gulping it down. “That stuff is way too strong.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m pretty sure you’ll want to be drunk for this party, Peter,” MJ warns him, shrugging. “Just a warning.”

He looks at her, then to the cup, before sighing and grabbing it from her hand. She smiles happily, grabbing one herself.

“Hey, didn’t you say to remind you _not_ to drink again after your killer hangover this morning?” Peter asks, watching her already taking sips.

“That was _before_ I remembered about this party,” she sighs, leading the way to the chairs. “I promise I won’t make you brush my teeth for me again.”

He suddenly wonders if she _did_ remember last night. If so, why would she lie? But then he remembers that he’s had to brush her teeth _twice,_ so it’s possible she could have been referring to the first time. He doesn’t know.

Thinking it all over, and looking up to see Abby sitting in one of the chairs and checking him out, he goes ahead and takes a drink.

They sit down and eat their food, the sun almost entirely gone now as they play a montage of pictures of Kyra growing up, and then of her and the girls when they were kids. It only lasts about ten minutes, but Kyra cries and hugs the girls, telling them how much she loves them. Peter notices MJ starting to drink heavier.

“Well, let’s lighten the mood,” Jennifer stands up, cutting off the projector and smiling at everyone. “Limbo, anyone? Losers take shots!”

Peter takes in a breath and drinks another larger sip of his punch, before leaving it behind and following MJ. They all play that (except for MJ’s mom, who stays back and drinks) and MJ ends up winning. John was the first to lose, so he took a shot, and then Jordan, then Kyra, then Abby, then Jennifer, then Peter. He reluctantly takes a shot too, feeling all of this alcohol already starting to catch up to him. And it’s a lot.

They all play a hula hoop contest then, and Peter ends up having to take _another_ shot after he’s the first to drop his. He’s feeling lightheaded and smiley and warm now, and for a minute he forgets that MJ’s family are awful people. But he can hardly even remember that now, as his body becomes more and more numb and his thinking process becomes slower.

Jennifer and MJ end up tying at the hula hoop contest; everyone becoming bored after they had been going for fifteen minutes and letting them both claim first place. Peter’s drunken mind is pretty sure he could have watched MJ move her hips around like that all day.

They all sit back in their seats then and talk for awhile about this trip and about the wedding, but Peter’s too lost in looking at MJ to ever even listen to what the rest are saying. She’s laughing and leaning against Peter drunkenly, and he’s smiling at her while she’s smiling about nothing. He can tell she’s not really listening to what they’re saying, either.

“I’m so drunk,” Peter laughs dumbly, before taking another drink of his punch. “Why don’t I do this more often anyway? It’s so fun.”

“Because the hangover will make you regret ever even _looking_ at alcohol,” she laughs out, looking at him. The crackling, orange fire is illuminating one side of her face, and she’s laughing at nothing, and his smile starts to fade as he _really_ looks at her.

How could he have never seen how beautiful she was before this trip? The way she always tries to fight those toothy, dimply smiles—not allowing any sort of vulnerability show even when she’s drunk. The way she pins her hair back behind her ear and sticks a pretty pink flower in it, letting the side of it touch her face. The way she laughs, and talks, and rolls her eyes and sighs, and the way she somehow has hidden from him all these years that she’s the strongest person he’s ever met.

“Peter,” MJ whispers with a smile, laughing quietly now. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs too, shrugging dumbly. He blinks hard, trying to keep his focus. “I just noticed that you’re even still pretty when you’re blurry.”

MJ just looks down and laughs, rolling her eyes. “They can’t hear you say that from here you know.”

“I know,” Peter nods, wishing he could be this brave sober. “I didn’t say it for them.”

Without any sort of warning at all, MJ leans over and kisses him. It’s warm and soft and she’s running her fingers through his hair, and he feels like he could explode from happiness. He reaches up and cups her cheek, moaning breathlessly against her mouth as he pulls her closer. Their open mouths move against each others hotly, messily as they kiss each other, and his head is spinning for a _different_ reason than the alcohol now.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, or _why_ she’s doing this, but he’s too drunk now to question it or care. And he _knows_ he’s really drunk, because he doesn’t care at all that her entire family are only ten feet away while they makeout.

And for the first time on this trip—while his hands are on her face and his mouth pressed against hers—he’s _finally_ going to admit it to himself: he wants her. Bad. _Very_ bad.

“Sorry about that,” she whispers with a laugh, pulling away from him. “Abby was watching us so I thought I’d put on a show to ward her off.”

“Oh,” he nods, reaching up to touch his swollen lips. He hadn’t really thought about _why_ she had been doing it in the first place, but the fact that it _wasn’t_ just because she wanted to makes his mood shift almost instantly. “No, it’s okay. I figured that was it.”

“Is everyone drunk enough to finally play karaoke now?!” Jennifer asks, grinning and lifting her drink into the air. They all follow suit, laughing and cheering as Jennifer insists Kyra and John go first. Peter forces a smile and half-asses his cheer, while MJ’s mom is just annoyed completely by all of it—not laughing or smiling or showing _any_ emotion, really.

MJ leans her head on Peter’s shoulder and curls her arms around his with a laugh, watching as Kyra and John walk up to the karaoke machine, picking a song. Her and John both lean down and whisper to each other, trying to find the right one, before standing up and grinning while they wait for the music to play.

A few seconds later they all hear the beginning chords of “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” start playing, and they all start cheering and laughing and yelling words of encouragement. Except Peter.

John barely sings anything and they can’t hear him at all over the music, but Kyra—as drunk as ever—sings her lungs out. She’s really enjoying herself and it shows.

They finish and walk back breathlessly; everyone clapping for them.

“We’re next! We picked a song out already since we knew we needed a duet,” Jennifer laughs, grabbing Jordan’s hand excitedly as they make their way to the karaoke machine. Jennifer pulls on a shirt and shorts over her coconut bra and grass skirt, and then Jordan pulls on a shirt too.

“Ready babe?” Jennifer turns to Jordan, grinning. He nods and breathes in a laugh, before Jennifer cuts on the music. It’s Crazy In Love by Beyonce and Jay-Z.

They all scream and cheer, MJ laughing against his chest. Jennifer starts out dancing around Jordan to the music, now fully in character as she wipes the smile from her face and sings to him. It’s a great performance, really, until Jay-Z’s part of the song starts, and Jordan starts rapping.

“Oh _shit,”_ MJ sits up, throwing her hand over her mouth in a grin, as Jordan—the same Jordan who has barely said two words this entire trip—starts rapping _every single word_ perfectly without even glancing at the lyrics on the screen. Peter wasn’t expecting that at all.

He _also_ wasn’t expecting them to start _grinding_ on stage either, but they are. And Jennifer’s unbuttoning her shirt as he grinds against her from behind and pulls her hair with one hand, holding the microphone in the other. Then mid-verse, Jordan turns her around and pushes her shorts to the ground, before moving his hands up her body slowly.

“Woohoo, go Jenn!” MJ laughs over the music, cupping her hands around her mouth to make it louder. Aunt Kyra and Abby are also screaming and laughing and yelling out words of encouragement. Peter’s jaw is on the floor. Is _this_ what MJ meant by weird? Because if so, she was definitely right.

Then Jennifer’s part comes back on, so she grins and pushes her hand against Jordan’s chest, smiling up at him as she sings into the mic. Then she turns to face all of them, singing loudly as Jordan comes behind her and sets his hands on the front of her thighs from behind, slowly moving them up and over her stomach, and then up _further_ to squeeze her coconut bra in his hands. Peter is incredibly uncomfortable—even despite the alcohol—while MJ is laughing her ass off and encouraging them further.

Right as Jennifer sings the last word, she reaches over and rips Jordan’s stripper shirt off, before they both turn and pose as the music ends.

“Holy shit,” MJ laughs, clapping along with the rest of them. Peter forces a laugh and claps along too, still not even sure what the _hell_ just happened. Sure, that would have been fun with a group of friends, but... _family?_ They were actually just grinding in front of her _mom._ But no else seems to think it’s weird, so he pretends he doesn’t either.

“Yeah, we practiced a few times,” Jennifer laughs and shrugs off the compliments, both of them sitting back down in their seats.

“Peter, Michelle, it’s your turn!” Kyra leans over and smiles at them, and now they all turn to look at them, waiting. Peter looks at MJ, absolutely _horrified._ She’s just shrugging.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he waves them off, shaking his head. “I can’t sing.”

“Karaoke isn’t about being able to sing!” Jennifer laughs, and they all start chanting their names, trying to convince them. “Come on, Peter, get up there or we’ll _drag_ you up there! Might as well get it over with!”

“You wanna know one of the reasons why I didn’t tell you about the party?” MJ asks him, and he gulps. “Because in this family, participation is _never_ optional.”

“Will they actually…?” Peter asks, hardly able to breathe.

“Oh yeah, they’ll drag you up,” MJ nods, standing up and holding her hand out for him. He looks up at her, his eyes wide, before he grabs his drink, pulls the straw out, and then gulps down the rest of it. They all shout and applaud, taking that as a sign that he’s actually about to do it.

“I hate this,” he grabs MJ’s hand, letting her lead him up.

“I know,” she smiles, squeezing his hand. She grabs a microphone and hands the other to Peter, before leaning down and picking a song from the “duets” section of the songs list. Peter stands there awkwardly shifting his feet, his palms sweating. Then MJ looks up at all of them, saying, “We’re gonna do this, but don’t expect it to be fully choreographed like you guys’!”

“We’re not expecting much at all, honey,” her mom laughs and takes another sip of her drink, and MJ’s smile fades and her hand hesitates against the screen. Peter’s heart sinks.

“Here, let’s do this one,” Peter leans down and presses the first one on the screen, not even glancing at it. He just wants to take her mind off of her _mom_ and bring back that smile she’s had all night.

“Yeah, okay,” she nods, standing up and breathing in. “Endless Love it is.”

Peter knows there’s _no_ way he’ll be able to compare to Lionel Richie, but he knows everyone is way too drunk to care if he’s a bad singer or not. So the music starts then, and Peter’s heart is racing, but he’s looking at her and trying to focus on making her feel better. And embarrassing himself always achieves that goal.

 _“My love...there’s only you in my life,”_ he starts singing, grinning at her and fighting the blush on his cheeks knowing they’re all watching. She grins then, rolling her eyes and mouthing, _“I hate you.”_ He just smiles and keeps going, badly singing, _“the only thing that’s right.”_

 _“My first love,”_ she laughs out, visibly gulping as her drunken voice echoes through the speakers. He knows it’s difficult for her to even _sing_ the word, so he smiles encouragingly at her. “ _You're every breath that I take...you're every step I make.”_

 _“And I...I want to share all my love with you—no one else will do,”_ they both smile as they sing together now, gaining slight confidence and singing louder. _“And your eyes,”_ MJ sings, laughing as Peter loudly sings _“your eyes, your eyes!”_ after her, shaking her head. And then together again, they sing “ _they tell me how much you care, oh, yes, you will always be...my endless love.”_

Peter’s smile slowly fades then as she says those words, now closing her eyes and singing confidently. He gulps as he watches her, and then shakes his head when he realizes he should be singing.

“Oh sorry,” he laughs, looking down at the screen to try and fall back into place. MJ doesn’t even notice, because now she’s singing loudly and passionately, and everyone’s laughing and Peter’s smiling at her. And now she’s walking around the platform, and Peter’s singing quietly as he watches her go.

She’s actually a pretty good singer, although he’s sure she’s a much _better_ singer sober.

She’s in the middle of passionately singing, _“and noooooo one can deny!”_ when she flings her arm out, throwing herself off balance. She was already swaying unsteadily from being so drunk, but that really made her stagger, and Peter grips her arm and pulls her back _right_ before she falls off the platform. Not like it’s _high_ or anything, but it would still probably hurt. Plus, when he pulled her back to him and she fell against his chest, it actually sort of looked planned.

She smiles at him and throws one of her arms around his neck, holding the microphone in the other and continuing to sing.

 _“And love, I’d play that fool for you,”_ they sing together, and Peter can’t help but imagine what it would be like if MJ actually felt this way about him. And she’s in his arms and she’s drunkenly singing loudly, and he suddenly he can’t help but lean in and kiss her mid-song. He even forgets that her family is there, because MJ then drops her microphone and throws her other arm around his neck, kissing him back with a smile on her lips.

They hear a loud bunch of ‘awww’’s from her family, before Jennifer yells out,  
“Finish the song or get a room!”

“You’re the one that was grinding on stage, so you can’t talk!” MJ turns and laughs, breaking the kiss and making Peter’s face fall against the crook of her neck, his breath heavy against it.

“Nice touch, Parker,” MJ turns to him and laughs, whispering so the others don’t hear. The music is still going.

Peter realizes that this is the first time he’s kissed her because he _wanted_ to and not because he was pretending. But her family is there watching them, so she doesn’t even know that. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

They both stumble messily down the steps—Peter hardly even able to _see_ anymore. He’s pretty sure he’s never been this drunk before in his entire life.

“We all know how scared Peter was to do that so let’s give him another round of applause!” MJ grabs Peter’s hand and holds it up, both of them smiling happily as everyone cheers.

Jennifer and Abby get up and sing a duet to “Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa. Their words are slurring and half of the time they’re doubled over laughing, but everyone else is pretty much doing the same so no one minds.

“I think it’s time for us to turn in—we have a big day tomorrow!” Kyra stands up and laughs a while later, after they all finish with the karaoke machine. “Thank you all so much for the party—it was amazing.”

So they all say goodnight to them, and then Jennifer calls someone on her phone to come clean the party up. Peter assumed they would all do it, but apparently not.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” Peter hears as he’s gathering plates and napkins and utensils to throw away. “We’ve already paid someone good money to do it.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna make their job a little easier, I guess,” he shrugs, turning away from her and shrugging. “I don’t mind.”

MJ’s talking to Jordan and Jennifer around the chairs, so Peter knows he’s going to have to save _himself_ this time if she tries anything.

“Oh God, I’m _so_ sorry,” Abby gasps, “accidentally” spilling her punch down his front. “Here, let me clean that up.”

And then she gets down on her knees and pats his abs with a napkin, putting her hand on his leg to steady herself. “Jeez, Peter, I didn’t realize how toned you were.”

“I can actually clean it up myself,” Peter laughs uncomfortably, backing away from her and hurriedly making his way to MJ. He puts his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, briefly looking back at Abby to see her reaction. She just rolls her eyes and gets more punch.

“Hey,” MJ leans against him, laying her head on his shoulder as Jennifer and Jordan say something. Peter isn’t listening.

“I think we’re gonna head off to bed too,” MJ yawns, reaching up to rub her eyes sleepily.

“Um, _no one_ is going to sleep yet,” Abby walks up, crossing her arms. “I’ve already done research on the top club in Kihei and it’s only twenty minutes away. Besides, this is our last _real_ night. We’re leaving early Saturday morning so we can’t do it tomorrow.”

“It’s already almost _eleven_ and I’m drunk off my ass, Abby,” MJ sighs, laying her head on Peter sleepily. He tightens his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He only gets to do this when he’s around her family, so he wants to use that excuse as much as he possibly can.

“That’s what makes it fun!” Abby retorts, sighing. “Besides, I have a fake ID and can get us more drinks.”

“I’m in,” Jennifer replies and looks up at Jordan, who nods in agreement. Then they all look over at Peter and MJ, waiting for their answer.

MJ turns to look at Peter, shrugging as if to ask, “Do you wanna?”

He really doesn’t at all, but he _does_ want to spend more time being able to stay this close to MJ, so he smiles and nods, agreeing.

“Okay, we’re in,” MJ laughs, before Jennifer and Abby start squealing excitedly.

Peter’s extremely annoyed that Abby acts like she likes MJ to her face even though she just completely backstabbed her two seconds ago.

“Let’s all go get dressed and meet back here in twenty,” Jennifer tells them, as they’re all walking back down the dock to their rooms. “Michelle you can come with us to get ready—I’m sure we’ll have something for you to wear.”

“Um…” MJ hesitates, glancing at Peter for a second, before turning and telling them okay. She gives him a quick kiss before they part ways.

So Peter walks alone back to the room, barely able to _see_ or _walk_ or think. He fumbles around through his suitcase for something to wear, finally settling on something he deems nightclub worthy as he takes it to the bathroom and shuts the door. He takes the absolute _longest_ piss of his life from how much he drank, and then he brushes his teeth slowly, and then he attempts changing his clothes. It takes forever because he’s _so_ drunk that he can hardly even feel his hands, and his mind won’t let him focus on doing anything.

Suddenly he hears loud laughing and then ‘shhh’’s, before hearing the door slam a few seconds later. Peter has no idea what the girls were doing, but when he opens the bathroom door they’re gone. So he sighs and goes back in the bathroom to fix his hair. He can barely even look at himself in the mirror he’s so messed up, but he makes an attempt anyway.

After he’s finished with that he looks at the time, seeing that it’s only been ten minutes since they parted. So he sits on his bed and waits for what _actually_ feels like an eternity, just staring blankly at a wall.

“Hey, we got done a little early,” MJ walks in the door, brushing her hair behind her ear. He looks up at her, smiling dumbly as he glances over her outfit. She’s wearing this tight, black dress, and her hair is done up halfway, and she’s wearing these sandals that tie halfway up her calves. She also has a few swipes of mascara on her eyelashes, and Peter _really_ wonders how they _possibly_ could have put on her makeup while completely wasted. He could hardly even put on his pants.

“You look good,” he smiles and stands up, taking in a breath. “You always do, but...you know what I mean.”

“Thanks, Peter,” she laughs, reaching up to tuck a few of his loose strands of hair back. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was pretty fun,” he shrugs, setting one his hands on her shoulder so he won’t fall over. Her dress is low-cut and he feels like that’s going to make him fall over even _easier._ “I’m glad I was drunk for it though.”

“Me too,” MJ laughs, biting her lip. He gulps. “Ready?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, as MJ grabs his hand and they walk back outside and down the dock. Peter sees a few people at the party area cleaning up, before Jennifer waves them over to an SUV on their left.

So they all load in, then Abby gives the driver the name of the club. Abby has been drinking since _eleven,_ so he has no idea how she’s still functioning so well. Especially since she’s had so much more than they have, and they’ve had a _lot_.

They all wait in line when they get there with their ID’s in hand and ready. It doesn’t take too long since it’s a Thursday night, but it’s decently packed by the time they get in.

Abby (the youngest of them, which they all find funny) ends up ordering them all drinks. Well all except Peter, who _knows_ he’s already had way too much already.

“I’ll drink half, you drink half,” MJ leans against the bar, smiling at him as she holds out a pineapple margarita. “These things are _very_ popular here I’ve learned.”

“I’m not drinking anymore,” Peter shakes his head, barely able to function now as it is. “I think I’d die.”

“Okay, not to get all High School Musical on you, but we’re all in this together, Parker,” she tells him, a small smirk on the edge of her lips. “You’re already going to have a killer hangover in the morning, so you might as well enjoy it now while you can.”

He thinks for a second, and the sighs when he realizes she’s right. They’re _all_ going to have a hangover in the morning. And right now, he _does_ feel good and numb and happy. So when she hands over the margarita, he drinks half of it, before handing it back to her. He can’t even taste the alcohol in these drinks anymore.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she grins, before downing the rest herself. They sit there for a few minutes and watch everyone dance and drink, and they search the crowd to find Jennifer and Jordan together on the dance floor, and then Abby dancing with a girl on the other side of the room.

“You wanna dance with me?” MJ asks, turning to look at him with a small smile

“Do you wanna dance with _me?”_ he asks, slightly surprised as he asks her.

“Yeah,” she shrugs, holding her hand out. “I mean not you _specifically_ , but dancing in general. Drunk me is very sociable, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Okay,” he laughs a little, grabbing her hand as they move through all of sweaty bodies on the dance floor. His head is spinning and the music’s loud and he doesn’t even know _how_ he feels about all of this. All he knows is that this is _not_ something either of them would do while sober.

But they’re having a relative amount of fun anyway; MJ swaying to the music, laughing and putting her arms messily around Peter’s neck.

“You aren’t even dancing!” She yells in his ear, before leaning back to look at him with a laugh.

“I can’t dance!” he shouts back, shaking his head. Someone bumps into him then, knocking him against MJ. She doesn’t seem to mind it, because she holds him there against her.

“You’re drunk, Peter, nobody cares if your dancing is bad!” MJ laughs, so close to him now that he can hardly breathe. “Now I’m gonna use the bathroom, but I’m forcing you to dance when I get back out!”

And then she leaves, disappearing into the crowd and leaving him standing there. He takes in a deep breath, looking all around himself. He feels a weird panic start to set in as he looks around at the crowds of people he doesn’t even know, feeling trapped. So he pushes his way through the mass of people until he finds a wall to lean against. He presses his head against it, trying to stop the spinning but only really making it worse. Plus there’s a couple making out only a few feet away from him, so he feels weird about that too.

“There you are,” he hears a familiar voice, forcing his eyes to snap open quickly. It’s Abby. “I was looking for you.”

“Why?” he sits up, confused. She’s spinning in his vision.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, getting closer with a smile. “I just wanted to see you I guess.”

“Uh...okay?” he makes a face, pushing himself harder against the wall as she now stands _right_ in front of him. He feels trapped again.

“Michelle isn’t around,” she tells him, tilting her head and smirking. He gulps.

“You’re drunk, Abby, let’s just…” he starts to say, starts to tell her no, before she reaches up and kisses him. Her lips fall on the corner of his mouth because he had been trying to dodge it, and her hands are on his face as she presses her body to his. His eyes widen and he reaches up to pull her hand from his face, before he spots MJ in the crowd, making her way towards them.

“Get _off_ of me,” Peter pushes Abby away, reaching up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Come on, Peter, let’s go,” MJ bumps Abby’s shoulder with hers roughly, before grabbing Peter’s hand and leading him to the exit.

“Shouldn’t we tell Jennifer and Jordan we’re leavi-”

“They’ll figure it out,” she interrupts him, walking across the street to get to their rental car.

“I didn’t kiss her back,” Peter gulps, trying to explain himself. “She just came up to me and wouldn’t leave me alone and then she kissed me.”

“I know,” MJ nods, sliding on her seatbelt. She turns and looks at him, her eyes landing on his lips for a moment, before she looks away. “I believe you.”

They don’t talk the entire car ride home, or the walk down the dock, or even when they get back to their room. Not only is there a slightly awkward and tension-filled air between them, but there’s also the fact that they’re completely drunk and can’t even _think_ straight. Or walk straight.

“I’m pretty drunk right now,” Peter sighs, leaning back against their door.

“Yeah, me too,” MJ smiles a little and then he laughs, but their laughter dies down after only a few seconds when they look at each other.

Sober Peter can look away and somewhat control his brain and his thoughts, but he’s quickly finding out that drunk Peter cannot. And she’s so incredibly beautiful and funny and smart and witty and Peter actually _can’t_ breathe.

MJ gives a small laugh which helps the sudden tension a little, but not enough. And then she’s leaning down to pull her shoes off, and one of the straps on her dress falls over her shoulder in the process, and he notices something that he really, really wishes he didn’t have to notice when this is all already so difficult.

“Are you...wearing the lingerie?” Peter asks quietly, seeing the lace-lined strap there, and his eyes follow it down to where it disappears beneath her dress. He tries not to stare but his drunken mind won’t let him turn away.

“Yeah,” she tells him, lifting her head to look at him through her lashes. “Jenn convinced me to where it for you tonight. They said it would drive you crazy just to know I had been wearing it under my dress.”

“Oh,” he nods, trying to force a laugh to lighten the mood but not succeeding. He can’t even form a coherent _thought,_ much less actual _words._

“Mhmm,” she nods, stepping out of her shoes and standing in front of him. She doesn’t even bother to pull the strap of her dress back up, even though he really wishes she would so he could _maybe_ start thinking rationally again. “Do you think it worked?”

“What worked?” he asks, their voices getting lower and lower with each reply they give each other.

“The lingerie,” she smiles a little, reaching up to slide her thumb beneath the strap. She traces the skin beneath the lace slowly, and she’s looking at him, and he has to part his lips so he can finally _breathe._ “How do you feel knowing that I wore it tonight under my dress?”

He feels her gaze on him, and she has a barely-noticeable smirk on her face, and he _knows_ she’s trying to tease him. But this is different than when they’re fighting or bantering: this is _real_ teasing.

He can imagine that lingerie set under her dress now: tight and lacy and lined with silk. And he has to clench his jaw and fist right now to keep from doing something incredibly stupid and irrational.

But it doesn’t work.

“MJ,” he breathes out, surprised himself by how shallow his breath is. They stand there staring at each other, and even _her_ smile has dropped now.

He steps forward once, then twice, and then he sees her gulp, looking in his eyes. That tiny gesture throws him over the edge, and he can’t take any of this anymore. He can’t take looking at her, or pretending he doesn’t want to kiss her, or keep imagining that black lace on her _without_ doing anything about it. So he reaches up and grabs her face and kisses her desperately and feverishly and any other _ly-_ ending word in the english language that’s synonymous with desire. She instantly kisses back, moaning into his mouth and blindly fumbling to grab his clothes to pull him closer and kiss him harder.

Their breathing is strained and loud and hot between every kiss, and Peter pushes her into the wall so he can kiss her harder. He’s not meaning to be rough, but the alcohol in his system isn’t exactly making him graceful; plus the fact that he’s wanted this _so badly_ all night makes him want to rip that dress right off of her. Besides, he’s pretty sure MJ likes it anyway, because she moans louder into his mouth and slips her tongue into it.

His head is spinning from the alcohol, and his hands are on her face to pull her closer, and the feeling that’s washing over him right now is unlike _anything_ he’s ever experienced before in his life. His body has been so numb from drinking all night, that the feel of her nails sinking into his hips under his shirt feels pretty close to an orgasm itself.

She tugs up at the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head messily, before tossing it across the room and attacking his mouth with hers again. She fumbles messily with the button on his pants, before pulling them down. Peter drunkenly pulls his feet from them, almost falling over in the process but successfully kicking them away after a few seconds of staggering.

“I can feel how much you want me,” she gasps desperately for air, feeling him against her leg.

He gets the sudden realization that this is _exactly_ what Ned said would happen. But the thought gets drowned out quickly when MJ’s hands roam over his chest.

“Peter,” she breathes out hotly against him, her voice desperate. “Touch me.”

“I am,” he pants, breaking their kiss to see one of his hands cupping her cheek, the other hand holding her hip. “I am touching you.”

“No,” she looks at him, in his eyes, as she pulls her arms from the straps of her dress, tugs it down and over her waist, before it falls to the floor. “I mean _really_ touch me.”

He looks down at her then, her body, and the way that the lacy black bra and underwear are hugging her skin and are practically see-through. He’s never seen someone so breathtaking or hot or beautiful in his entire life.

He nods at her then, somewhat nervously, and she crashes her lips against his. His hands press against her shoulders and move down her arms, her waist, her hips. But he suddenly stops there because he’s a big jumble of nerves, and he’s never done this before, and he’s scared he’s going to do something wrong. He can’t catch a break from overthinking even when he’s _drunk._

She seems to pick up on his hesitation, so she reaches down and lays her hands on top of his, moving them down to settle on her thighs.

“Stop overthinking it,” she tells him, letting his hands go so he can take over.

He nods again and tries to swallow away his nerves, as he lightly traces his fingers against the skin of her inner thigh. She sighs and leans her head back against the wall, her eyes closing and her lips parting to take in a sharp breath. He watches her face in complete mesmiration, slowly moving his hand higher, carefully analyzing her reaction. Her eyebrows are furrowed now, and her fingers are pressing firmly against his shoulder, and he takes in a long, deep breath, before moving higher and finally pressing his hand between her legs.

Despite the fact that she still has her underwear on, she lets out a loud moan then and arches her back, leaning into his touch.

He’s pretty sure he feels that good right now just _watching_ her.

 _“Peter,”_ she whimpers out, moving her body against his hand, creating friction. “Jesus, Peter, right there.”

So he starts moving his hand now, applying more pressure, just wanting to make her feel good and hear her keep moaning out his name like _that._ He feels like he could die right now, because everything is surreal and Ned’s prophecy came true and he’s getting MJ off and she’s crying out his name because she wants him so bad.

“Let’s go to the bed,” her voice shakes as she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, still gasping for air as he keeps moving his hand against her, both of them stumbling back messily to find the bed.

“I’m so close,” she tells him in a whimper, fueling him even more as they fall into the sheets. He moves faster now and is kissing her neck and collarbone and shoulder, and she’s sweaty and panting and so goddamn wet for _him_ of all people. “God, Parker, _yes_.”

He almost _instantly_ stops his movements then, swallowing thickly and widening his eyes. She’s been calling him Peter and _moaning_ Peter this entire time, but as _soon_ as she called him Parker—the name she uses when teasing him—he felt like it knocked him stone-cold sober.

“What the hell?” she looks at him, her chest rising and falling quickly when she realizes he’s stopped. “Is this some sort of punish kink? Because if so, I’m _not_ into it. At all.”

“Oh my God,” he stands up and stumbles back, blinking a few times and looking down at her. He’s been so driven by blind, drunken _want_ that he can’t believe he actually let it get this far. He now understands all of those romcoms where they accidentally wake up in the same bed and don’t know how they got there. “Oh my God, MJ, what are we doing?! We’re drunk!”

“Peter, I was about to orgasm, you idiot! Of course we’re drunk—that’s how we got to this in the first place!” she sits up, her voice a mixture of annoyance and want and frustration.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he shakes his head, walking around the room in disbelief. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my _God.”_

“Jesus, calm down,” she tells him, sitting up and still desperately trying to catch her breath. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“MJ, we’re…we’re friends! And we’re drunk, and being stupid and reckless and…” he runs his hand through his hair, trying to think sober thoughts while drunk. It doesn’t work too well, because as soon as his mind grasps onto something worth saying, he loses it again.

“Okay, well if you’re not gonna finish this for me then I’ll just do it myself,” she tells him, laying back down and shoving her hand beneath the waistband of her underwear to get herself off. She throws her head back and shuts her eyes and moans, and he gulps.

He watches for one second, two, three—the drunk half of himself wanting nothing more than to get down there and help her—but he’s already had the realization, and he’s already in denial that any of this is _actually_ happening, and it’s too late. So he quickly makes his way to the door and walks out, taking in a huge breath of air, trying to think clear, rational thoughts.

He leans over and puts his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath, desperately trying to clear his head. He should have never, ever trusted himself to get drunk again when he’s with her; especially when he’s had this overwhelming amount of pent up frustration for days now.

He hears her moaning from their room, and it’s mixed with the sound of waves beside him, and his mind is going crazy right now with nerves and disbelief and confusion all at once.  

He thinks of how he touched her, and how much she liked it, and how much _he_ liked it, and what it felt like just to _watch_ her unravel completely because of him. And he thinks about how he’s so goddamn _tired_ of not doing the things he wants to do just because he’s scared, and he’s tired of always overthinking everything, too.

So he shuts his mind off and lets himself run on instinct instead.

He bursts back in the room again, and she’s laying there against the bed completely lost in pleasure as he approaches her.

“Sorry about that freakout,” he gulps, standing there and purposely not looking down to where her hands are. “I still wanna do this if you do.”

“Thank God you changed your mind—my hand’s getting tired,” she laughs out, pulling her hand from her underwear and reaching up to bring him down to kiss her. His heart is beating out of his chest as he moves his lips against her and lets his hand ghost across the skin of her stomach in complete and utter admiration for her. He can’t believe he finally can. “This is so much harder while drunk.”

He moves his hand down and begins to rub his fingers against her again, slower this time as he kisses her neck.

“Please,” she begs in this hot, guttural moan, before she reaches up to palm him through his boxers. He pulls away then though, breathing out, the sensation overwhelming.

“No, I want…” he starts, trying to search his fuzzy mind for what he’s trying to say. “I just want to do this for you.”

She looks at him then, their eyes locking, and she nods.

So he breathes in and gets down further on the bed, before he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and pulls them down and off her legs. She watches him, gulping and biting her lip.

“Is it okay if I…?” He starts, looking her in the eyes. He wishes he was as open and comfortable as she is about this, but he’s too shy to say it out loud even when drunk.

“Eat me out?” She laughs, using her legs to pull him closer to her. “Yeah, that’d be okay.”

He laughs nervously with her, before nodding and leaning down, finally pressing his mouth against her.

She cries out his name loudly then, her hands reaching down to pull roughly at his curly hair as he tastes her and feels her and makes her body shake beneath him. Her thighs are on his shoulders, and his arms are hooked around them, and his senses are overwhelmed with all things MJ.

“Oh my _God,_ Peter,” she pants loudly now, her hips bucking, her back arching. She’s about to rip his hair right off of his head with how hard she’s pulling, but he loves the encouragement, and loves that he’s making her feel so good.

He moans against her, feeling his own orgasm building quickly—faster and faster the more she moans. He knows he’s close too.

“I can’t…” she forces out, one of her hands reaching over to forcefully grip at the sheets beside her. “Peter, I’m gonna-”

And then she cries out again, arching her back, her eyes squeezed shut. He keeps going until she rides it out, gasping for air and falling back down against the bed as she loosens the grip on his hair.

He pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his shaking hand, watching her and taking in her breathtaking beauty. He didn’t think she could ever get _more_ beautiful until he saw her overwhelmed with pleasure, and tasted her, and felt her legs tremble against him. _Because_ of him.

“Holy _shit_ , Peter,” she laughs out shakily, pulling him up to kiss her. Then she sits up and looks at him, that drunk MJ smile on her lips. “You’re actually so goddamn good at that.”

“Thanks,” he laughs, feeling awkward, shy. “I, uh...need to clean up.”

“Don’t you want me to get you off too?” She asks, confused. They’re both even drunker now, and his heads spinning, and he _definitely_ can’t think straight after all of this.

“I sort of already…” he breathes out, standing up. “Um…”

“Did you orgasm just from eating me out?” She asks lowly, and he rubs the back of his neck, and breathes out in humiliation. “You got that turned on just seeing _me_ turned on?”

“I know, I tried not to, I just…” he gulps, trying to think of what to say. There _isn’t_ really much to say, and he’s worried that she thinks he’s embarrassing and weird for it. “Sorry, I, um...”

But she turns his face to hers then mid-stutter, and kisses him. It’s not the same kind of hot and passionate kiss they had before; this one is sweet and gentle and full of something that Peter’s never felt in her before. He wants it to last forever.

“You can go shower off,” she whispers, pulling back from the kiss but staying close. Her hand is on his neck, and her thumb is slowly rubbing against his jaw. “I’m gonna wash this makeup off and brush my teeth.”

He just nods dumbly, his brain still not processing everything that just happened. He _really_ just ate MJ out. He _really_ just finished himself only from watching _her._ And he knows in comparison to the others it may not be huge, but he still can’t get over that they kissed when no one was watching.

She pulls her underwear back on and stumbles into the bathroom, knocking over pretty much everything in her path. They both laugh from their separate rooms, as Peter grabs a new pair of boxers and breathes out, trying to make it to the shower without falling.

So he takes a shower, having to keep his hands pressed against the wall almost the _entire_ time so he doesn’t fall over. And he even gets so thirsty at one point, that he tilts his head up and opens his mouth to drink the shower water. He knows he’ll be appalled at himself in the morning, but right now it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Ten minutes later he’s in bed with a fresh pair of boxers on and clean skin, staring up at the spinning ceiling above him. He feels like dying.

“I’m so drunk,” he groans as MJ walks in, flipping the light off and falling into bed next to him.

“I know,” MJ’s words slur, and she pulls the blanket up and over herself. “Me too.”

“I can’t believe we did that,” Peter gulps, barely able to keep his eyes open anymore. He can now understand why she needed someone to brush her teeth the other night, because he’s so out of his mind that _he_ couldn’t do it right now.

“And all because I was jealous of Abby kissing you,” she sighs sleepily, laying her head on his chest. His heart starts racing at her words, going over them over and over and over again so he can remember them tomorrow.

He reaches up to set his hand flat against her back, and then his head spins more, so he closes his eyes and finally embraces the irresistible pull of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time writing smut so don't make fun lmao hope you guys enjoyed!!


	8. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys make me feel so loved, and I just wanted to let you know I love you back!! I also made a twitter for this account so follow @chrono996 if you want :) In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the wedding!

When Peter wakes, he instantly notices the absence of warmth beside him, and uses his arm to blindly, reflexively reach over for MJ. He’s gotten so used to her being there when he regains consciousness in the morning, that it feels wrong and off when she isn’t.

And right now, she isn’t.

The instant he feels the empty sheets beside him, his eyes snap open and his morning drowsiness disappears immediately. He lifts his head from his pillow and looks at the place on the bed where MJ should be, but isn’t. And then he gulps and looks around the room, pushing his hair back with his fingers. He feels a hard, pounding ache in his head, but he barely even notices it because he’s so worried and stressed and confused on where she could be.

And then, after a whole minute of blurry, cloudy confusion, he remembers. He remembers pushing her against the wall, he remembers hearing her moan his name like she needed him right then and there, he remembers pressing his mouth against her and making her come. He blushes at the thought of it; his heart racing, his mouth dry, his mind going crazy. He can’t believe any of it—even just the karaoke part—happened at all, let alone the rest.

“Shit,” he breathes out to himself, sitting up and putting his face in his hands. He remembers walking out mid-MJ-orgasm, and part of him wishes he had just _stayed out_ and not gone back in. Then it would be a little awkward, yeah, but it wouldn’t be like it is now—where he knows what she looks like when she orgasms, and she knows he can orgasm just by watching _her_ orgasm.

But another, stronger part of him feels...content with himself. He finally went after something he _wanted,_ and if he hadn’t, he would still just be _wondering_ what MJ tasted like—not ever actually knowing. And he _liked_ getting her off, making her feel good, driving her to an aching, breathless release. He still can’t believe _he_ even did that.

And then he remembers her saying something about being jealous of Abby, and even though he can’t remember her _exact_ words, he can still feel the same nervous pit in his stomach that he had when she said it. Did she actually mean _jealous_ of Abby? As in wishing it was her kissing him instead? Or was she just talking about the fact that Abby would tell the whole family that he was cheating on MJ and wanted to avoid it?

But she _did_ say jealous.

Even after all of these crazy, intrusive thoughts, though, there’s still one thing he’s curious about: where’s MJ? His immediate thought is that she _hates_ him now, and she’s even _more_ embarrassed than he is, and she never wants to see him again so she left as soon as she woke up. He feels scared and helpless and he has no idea what to do.

He grabs his phone and checks the time, seeing it’s almost noon—which makes sense when he remembers it was probably around two or three a.m. when they fell asleep.

He _also_ sees he has nine texts from Ned, all of them in reply to the picture they sent yesterday.

First text: oh my god

Second text: are you guys together now???

Third text: I dont see her family around and she’s kissing you and dude...you’re blushing

Fourth text: ok I know I’ve probably missed a lot but when you guys left you literally hated each other please tell me what I’ve missed

Fifth text: and please GOD tell me that includes making out against a wall

Sixth text: or on a bed or on the beach or anywhere actually

Seventh text: the wall was just an example I’m not picky

Eighth text: I hope for your sake that’s what you’re doing right now since you’re ignoring me

Ninth text: god I hate you so much for leaving me hanging like this

Despite the sick feeling he still has in his stomach, he can’t help but laugh a little at Ned’s texts anyway. He wishes he was here right now to help him figure this all out.

Peter presses his finger to the text box and types out: “Sorry there’s a lot going on right now. I’ll try and fill you in soon, but if I can’t find the time I promise I will on Sunday. Love and miss you and hope you’re having fun too.”

He then sets his phone down and lays back against his pillow, closing his eyes and rubbing his throbbing temples. After a few minutes, realizing he should probably get up and get ready for the wedding, he sits back up and walks to the fridge, drinking a whole water bottle to try and relieve this dry mouth. It doesn’t work.

He turns and is about to go out and search for MJ, but right as he gets to the door he notices a note tucked beside the doorknob. So he pulls it out, unfolds it, and reads, _“Going to get ready with the girls. Your suit is hanging up in the bathroom. I’ll be back by at one.”_

He reads it over a thousand times, not really caring about the content but focusing more on the tone of it. Is she angry? Regretful? Upset? He knows he probably wouldn’t be able to tell that well just from a note, but he tries anyway. And he’s scared.

He gulps and sets the note on his nightstand, taking in a long, uneven breath. He’s scared, nervous, embarrassed to face her, and he only has an hour to prepare himself for it.

He keeps wondering if she might pretend it didn’t happen. That’s the easiest way out, right? Pretending like nothing’s wrong, or pretending she doesn’t remember just to save them both the embarrassment of actually having to face it. He doesn’t know what to do, or what he wants to happen, and his mind is a big, hungover, confused mess.

He takes a shower and tries to take his mind off of everything, but he can’t. He can’t, and he’s terrified to see her and he’s terrified everything’s going to be weird and he’s terrified that he should have just stayed outside last night and saved them and their friendship the humiliation. He’s also terrified that she’s finally letting someone in, and finally has someone who cares for her and understands her, and he just ruined it all. Yeah, she wanted it to happen last night too, but they were drunk and weren’t thinking at _all_ about the consequences for their actions. And now he isn’t prepared for any of them.

He wishes that a night _that_ amazing didn’t have to be filled with a morning full of regret. But he can’t do anything now but wait, so he does.

He finishes showering, and then he wraps a towel around his waist as he goes to the bathroom and combs out his hair, and then puts on his suit, and then brushes his teeth. And then he waits.

He tries desperately to shut his brain off, but as he lays there on the bed, uncomfortable as hell so he doesn’t wrinkle his suit, his mind is racing a million miles per second. About MJ and what they did and her reaction and how _awful_ this wedding will be if she’s not fully there with him. She’ll put on the face for her family when she has to of course, but otherwise, he might as well be on his own. She has the ability to shut off all of her emotional capacity and become robot-like, and it makes him feel incredibly alone.

“Ready, loser?” he hears a voice, and MJ’s suddenly there pushing the door open. She’s standing in the doorway in this beautiful pink dress and white heels, with her hair halfway up and falling across her shoulders, and he instantly flushes when he looks at her.

He can’t believe she let him touch her in _that_ way. Or touch her at all, really.

“Hi,” he stands up and smiles shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms against his fancy suit. She turns and looks at him then, jumping slightly.

“Oh, shit, I thought you were in the bathroom,” she laughs, holding her hand against her pounding heart. Then she looks him over and tilts her head, saying, “The suit looks good.”

He’s a little shocked now, mostly because he thought she wouldn’t talk to him or she would be mean to him like he’s learned she always is when she’s upset or embarrassed or angry. But she isn’t doing that. She’s just acting like...MJ.

“Yeah, one could say it _suits_ me,” he laughs nervously, and instantly regrets his words the second they come out of his mouth. Especially since MJ gives him _that_ look she _always_ gives him when he makes a joke. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, idiot,” she laughs, bumping his shoulder. She isn’t acting weird at _all,_ and that in itself is making _Peter_ act weird. He was expecting a lot different.

“Here, your tie is messed up,” she tells him, reaching forward and pulling it out of the messy, crooked knot he had it in. He looks down and watches her manicured nails fasten it around his collar, and then he looks up at her. He takes in a shaky breath as he watches her blink, and watches her long eyelashes bat against her cheek, and the way her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. And then he watches her bite her pink, glossy lip as she focuses on the knot, which leads him into thoughts about how he got to kiss them last night. He, Peter Parker, got to kiss _those_ lips, and touch _that_ skin.

“There,” she tells him, stepping back to make sure it’s even. “That looks better.”

“Thanks,” he nods, trying to stop staring at her like an idiot. He’s having a hard with that.

“Let’s go, the driver’s waiting,” she grabs his arm, pulling him to the door.

“Wait,” he gulps, stopping in his tracks and grabbing the hand that’s on his arm. He desperately tries to build up courage as blood rushes to his ears. He’ll keep acting weird if they don’t face it, and he’ll keep feeling _sick_ if they don’t face it, so he knows that he has to say something if she won’t. “Do you...do you remember last night?”

“When you went down on me?” she asks, laughing a little. “Yeah, I remember. Now let’s g-”

“-Then why are you acting like it’s so normal?” he interrupts, swallowing thickly. “I can’t figure out what I’m feeling. I thought...I thought it would be weird with us.”

“It’s just an orgasm, Peter,” she shrugs, crossing her arms. He can’t tell if she’s joking or not, but he can’t wrap his head around the fact that she’s completely unbothered by this. Especially when _he_ feels like he might have a heart attack.

“I’m...I’m not as open about that stuff as you are,” he gulps, nervously pulling on a loose thread on his pants. “This is all new to me and weird and you’re my friend and I...did that to you.”

“You did that _to_ me?” she laughs a little, narrowing her eyes. “I would have said _for_ me, but...”

“I just mean…” he breathes out, trying to collect all of his scattered thoughts. He was preparing himself for anger or tears or both, but he _never_ prepared himself for her carelessness on the topic and it’s throwing him off. “I thought things would be weird with us. You know, like in those movies where the friends get super drunk and sleep together, and then they, like, drift apart because they can’t look at the other the same ever again.”

“Yeah, well those people are obviously extremely immature if they can’t look at their friend the same just because they made them orgasm,” she shrugs, not even flinching as she says it. “It’s a natural part of life. Besides, it isn’t like romance and sex go exclusively hand-in-hand. I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

“I wish I could agree with you, but I just…can’t,” Peter gulps, trying to catch his breath. “I’m not used to any of this. I’ve never done anything like that before, and it’s big to me, and I feel weird that it was with my friend. Or acquaintance, or whatever it is we are. I just...I don’t know. I’m confused and I feel weird—especially since we were so extremely drunk that we couldn’t _think_ about what we were actually doing. Not clearly, at least.”

“But that’s the funnest part,” she laughs a little, and he sighs. “Okay, fine, I’ll try and level with you; I get that you aren’t as open about sex as I am, so there’s that. But does last night really bother you that bad? We were super drunk and it felt good. I don’t know why we should have to feel guilty for that.”

“I don’t know, MJ,” he breathes out, wishing she _didn’t_ have a point. But she does, and it’s something he can’t really find an argument against even though he wants to. “This is good though, right? I mean…I’m glad things aren’t weird between us, I guess.”

“Yeah, me too,” she nods, her hand propped up against the doorway. They sit there quietly for a second, not sure what to say. Then MJ speaks up, finally breaking the awkward silence. Yeah, it’s still weird. “Seriously though, Peter, you shouldn’t feel bad or guilty or anything. Everyone has sex. Or, you know, goes down on someone.”

And she smiles a little knowingly, and he blushes and shakes his head, looking down at the floor. “Just shut up and let’s go.”

“Fine,” she laughs, pulling the door open. “If it’ll help you today, then just forget it ever even happened.”

“Yeah,” he nods, forcing a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I will.”

Except he’s lying to her _and_ himself when he says that. He doesn’t want to forget it. Not even a _second_ of it, actually. And part of him is relieved that it’s not _as_ awkward or weird between them as he initially thought it would be, but a much larger part feels…disappointed. He thought it all _meant_ something to her like it did to him, but now he knows it didn’t. She doesn’t care at all, and that hurts even more since Peter cares so _much._

“Abby _actually_ tried to act like nothing happened today,” MJ laughs, shaking her head. Peter gulps and looks up at her, their arms hooked together. “She’s insane.”

“Did you say anything about it?” Peter asks, curious to know.

He still can’t believe Abby _actually_ kissed him last night. If he wasn’t so weird and upset still about the MJ thing, he would definitely be messing with MJ about her saying she was jealous of Abby. But despite the fact that MJ may not feel weird about any of it, _he_ still does. And he’s not in the mood to tease her; especially about something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand the meaning of.

“In this family, you don’t say anything,” MJ tells him, opening the car door and waiting for him to get in. “You never do. You just look the other way and pretend it didn’t happen, or all hell will break loose.”

“You don’t think she’ll try again, do you?” Peter asks, sliding over to the other side of the car so MJ can get in.

“Probably not,” MJ shrugs, leaning her head back and looking out the window. “But I have no idea.”

He looks over and sees her spitting some of the hair out that she got caught on her sticky lips, making a face as she tucks it back and behind her ear. Then she breathes out and looks down at her newly-long nails, examining them diligently.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he blurts out, not even really meaning to say it out loud. He can’t look at her anymore without turning red or stuttering or doing _something_ embarrassing. “I meant to tell you earlier, but…we got distracted, I guess.”

“Thanks, Parker,” she nods and laughs, glancing over at him. “It all feels weird to have on, but I actually do feel pretty. I guess I see the hype about this stuff or whatever. But anything that pleases my mom is probably inherently evil anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Don’t think about your mom today,” he tells her, leaning his head back on the seat to look at her. “Let’s just have fun, okay?”

“You’re right,” she nods, breathing out. “Whatever she says, whatever she does…I’ll ignore her. The trip is almost over, anyway—I’m sure I can deal with it for one more day.”

He suddenly gets the realization that they really _do_ only have one more day left. One more day of pretending to be a couple, one more day of sleeping together, one more day in Hawaii. Only one more day until they have to go back home and face reality: classes and exams and his tiny apartment and the loneliness he ever even knew he had until he came on this trip.

As much as he dreaded all of this _before_ the trip, he now wishes he never had to go back.

They finally pull up at the venue half an hour later, and Peter stares in amazement at all of it. Along the vibrant green grass, there are rows of beautiful bamboo chairs with an aisle in the middle that has blue, pink, and yellow flowers sprinkled on the ground. There are lights strung up on the palm trees that overlook the rocks and the waves and the beach, and there’s an arch at the end of the aisle that’s twined with big, beautiful palm leaves.

Peter’s at a loss for words.

“God, this is...it’s so beautiful,” he laughs a little, looking around in mesmerization.

“Yeah, it doesn’t even look real,” MJ nods, glancing around with wide-eyes herself. There’s a few people still setting things up, but Peter doesn’t spot any of her family there.

“Is anyone else here? Didn’t your other family get in last night?” Peter asks, nervously fixing his tie. He wants to look nice.

“Don’t be nervous, Parker,” she laughs, looking around. “But I think Jennifer got ready for the whole bridesmaid thing early so she could come help, so I think that means it’s just her and Jordan for now. Distant family and friends are coming when it starts, which is at five. I just wanted to help setup.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter nods, his shoulders relaxing. He’s glad he doesn’t have to spend three _extra_ hours surrounded by people he doesn’t know.

“Let’s go, I think they said they’re gonna be helping over at the dance floor area,” MJ tells him, walking along the paved pathway. They walk for a few minutes, and Peter takes in _all_ of the beauty around him. He’s not going to be happy when he has to go back to loud, smelly, crowded New York City after seeing _this._

So finally they pass what Peter assumes is the reception area, which has rows upon _rows_ of tables and chairs, is surrounded by palm trees, and has a large dance floor in front of it where everyone seated can see. There’s beautiful lights strung up _everywhere,_ too: along the chairs, the stage, above the dance floor.

And then he notices a long bar lined with stools on his left, which is unsurprisingly already making him nervous.

“If I ever get married, I want it to be _just_ like this,” Peter laughs, running his hands along the soft tablecloth as he passes it.

“First you’ll have to find someone who’ll _actually_ want to marry you,” MJ turns around and looks at him, a playful smile on her lips. “Might be tough.”

“Shut up,” he replies, shaking his head with a smile himself.

“Hey guys! Isn’t this place so beautiful?” Jennifer laughs, her and Jordan setting chairs around the tables beside the dance floor. “The centerpieces and flowers are on their way, the food is getting prepared, and the DJ is getting all of the music queued!”

“So what should we be helping out with?” MJ asks, looking around at everything.

They end up just doing a lot of busy work, which includes: making sure all of the plates and utensils are in their exact right spots, centering the centerpieces perfectly, and then testing out the microphones and speakers to make sure everything works the way it should. It’s all pointless really, but staying even _mildly_ busy keeps Peter’s mind off the things he doesn’t want to think about.

“It’s about an hour now until it starts,” MJ tells him, after they eventually started _looking_ for things to do. “Do you wanna just go sit down now? I wanna get a good seat and people should be getting here soon.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Peter nods, both of them walking side-by-side back to where the ceremony will take place.

It feels weird now, and he knows it’s because of him. He doesn’t even know what he can do to fix it either, because every time he looks at her, he gets flashbacks from last night. The way she pulled his hair, the way she was moaning his name, the way she kissed him after she finished. How could he be expected to act normal after all of that?

“I was thinking we could sit around the middle on this side,” she tells Peter, gesturing vaguely at the chairs. “That way we aren’t _too_ close, but we aren’t too far, either.”

“Whatever you want is fine,” he nods, following behind her. He can feel her looking at him, but for the _millionth_ time this trip, he ignores it.

They sit in their chairs for five, ten minutes, the only sound is the waves crashing against the rocks ahead of them. Peter wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what.

“Are you acting weird because of last night? I told you to forget it.” MJ sighs, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation, finally fed up with his silence. “I hate this, like, unspoken awkwardness.”

“I’m not acting weird and it’s not awkward,” he scoffs, crossing his arms defensively. “I forgot about that _completely,_ actually. I was just enjoying the view.”

“God, Peter, I’ve known you long enough to know that everything you said right then was a lie,” she groans, sinking down into her seat and leaning her head against the back of it. “I want to know _one_ thing, though. How were you so good at it?”

“So good at what?” he asks, full of confusion. It hits him right as she says it.

“Uh, going down on me? What else?” she laughs, turning to look at him. He blushes again, but shrugs it off by pretending he’s annoyed with her and looking the other way. “Most guys have _no idea_ what they’re doing.”

“Look, I just…I try to educate myself on things like that,” he shrugs, crossing his arms. He always notices when _she_ gets mean when she’s embarrassed, but he’s realizing now that he does it too.

“How?” she asks, smiling curiously. “I thought you didn’t watch porn.”

“I _don’t,”_ he shakes his head, breathing out. He can feel her watching him, but he just looks ahead at the ocean. “I’ve just done research, is all. I knew if the time ever came, I wouldn’t want to be that idiot guy who knew _nothing_ about the way women's bodies worked and couldn’t…you know.”

“Make them orgasm?” she finishes the thought she knew he would never say aloud, smiling smugly as she nudges his arm teasingly.

“Shut up,” he breathes out, shaking his head. He’s smiling a little now too though, actually feeling decently good about himself. He made MJ orgasm and he _still_ can’t get over that.

“Nah, I think it’s good though,” she sits up, turning her head to look at the ocean too. “Most guys don’t give a shit about the woman’s pleasure—only their own. But I could tell that you actually cared about mine. It was kinda hot.”

He sits there for a second with his eyes narrowed, going over that last comment in his head. Then he whips his head around to look at her, already smiling himself when he realizes that she _had_ to have been messing with him. But when he turns to look at her, her head is twisted to the side, looking back at a car pulling up.

“Oh shit, somebody’s here,” she sits up fully now, and grabs Peter’s hand in hers.

The entire reason they came on this trip is _actually_ happening now, and it feels surreal.

MJ turns and looks at Peter and he looks at her, and she whispers, _“fake to be deep in conversation.”_

So he looks at her and nods, their hands clasped together in between them. She’s putting on this extremely convincing smile and laugh, and Peter follows suit. It’s weird having to _fake_ to laugh, but he’s not at all having to force himself to smile when he looks at her. That part comes naturally.

“Who is it?” he whispers, trying to discreetly get a look.

“Uhhh,” MJ hums quietly, making a quick glance over at the car. “Oh, I think it’s just one of Kyra’s friends. I guess we should introduce ourselves now, unfortunately. God, I wish Jenn was here so we didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, me too,” Peter nods and laughs, wiping the sweaty hand that’s _not_ intertwined with MJ’s on his pants.

So they walk over to the new guests and shake hands and introduce themselves, and it’s not nearly as bad as Peter anticipated. They had never even met MJ before, so they thankfully didn’t do the “MJ’s family thing” where they say “ _I can’t believe you actually got a boyfriend! Finally! We never thought it would happen!”_

But then some more guests showed up—cousins, aunts, uncles—and there was a _flood_ of those comments. Some of them even talked about how MJ maybe _shouldn’t_ have picked those shoes since it makes her much taller than him, and that wasn’t very cute. And then they would smile, and say “ _oh, but you’re a lovely couple anyway!”_

It didn’t bother Peter, but he could tell it bothered MJ. He can always feel her energy change after a comment like that, and see the _real_ smile slip off briefly, before quickly being replaced with a _forced_ smile. And he hates having to see her like this—especially when she probably felt pressured into wearing heels she didn’t want to wear in the first place.

“Don’t listen to them,” Peter nudges her arm, trying to lighten the mood as they make their way back to their seats. Music is playing now, and the ceremony is only ten minutes away so everyone’s getting settled into their seats. “They’re just idiots.”

“Yeah, I know,” MJ nods, looking down at her hands and taking in a breath.

“Michelle,” her mom walks up to them talking in a humiliated, hushed tone, and Peter already wants to roll his eyes. “I told you to wear the Louboutins. They weren’t as tall, and they went with your dress! I _specifically_ told you!”

“I liked these better,” MJ tells her in a quiet voice, and Peter clenches his jaw. He _hates_ her mom. Especially since MJ went out of her comfort zone and got her nails, hair, and makeup done, and her mom _still_ isn’t happy. Of course she isn’t.

“How could you embarrass me like this? Really? In front of the entire family?” Her mom looks around anxiously now, like she’s embarrassed that MJ’s even out in public with _those_ shoes on. “You have _no_ idea how many people have already come up to me talking about how you just _tower_ over your boyfriend.”

“Can we please not talk about this now?” MJ asks in defeat, her voice tired. Her mom raises an eyebrow like she can’t _believe_ MJ just said that to her, and MJ just looks away.

“The wedding’s about to start—you should go get your seat,” Peter puts his arm around MJ and looks at her mom, trying to put on the most assertive tone he can. Although he isn’t an assertive kind of person as it is, it’s still not very hard to do with how angry he is.

Her mom just stares at MJ in annoyance, with a scary, evil smile on her face, before she turns around and walks away.

“Hey, are you okay?” Peter turns to MJ, using a soft voice now. He gulps when he sees her.

She composes herself quickly and smiles, saying, “Maybe we should pay a visit to that open bar sooner than planned, huh?”

Peter just looks at her and sees the coping mechanism kicking in like it always does, so he reaches down and tangles his hand with hers, squeezes, and gives her a reassuring smile. She smiles back, and lays her head on his shoulder with an exhale. It feels good.

The ceremony starts a few minutes later, everyone sitting up straighter in their seats and quieting down as John and the officiate walk over to stand  under the arch. The music gets louder then, before all heads turn to watch Jennifer start walking down the aisle alongside the best man. She’s smiling but she looks straight ahead, and they part ways at the end of the aisle to stand on opposite sides.  
  
Then it’s Abby’s turn. She walks faster than Jennifer did, less elegantly, and she’s looking around and waving at everyone on the way down—including Peter. He hears MJ breathe out beside him, and slightly tighten the grip on his hand.  
  
Finally it’s Kyra’s turn. She’s wearing a beautiful yet simple gown with a long train, and has an extravagantly-laced veil on her head, running down her back. She looks straight ahead, only looking at John. Peter finally glances towards John now to see his reaction, and he’s…crying. Not loudly or obnoxiously, but he quietly reaches up to wipe the tears from his eyes with a small laugh. Peter’s shocked again.  
  
She finally gets to him, to the arch they stand under, and the ceremony begins. Peter smiles the entire time, only praying he can experience that kind of love one day. The whole thing is heartwarmingly beautiful.  
  
Once it’s over and they’ve kissed, Kyra and John walk back down the aisle hand-in-hand, and everyone stands and cheers. Once they’ve disappeared down the path, Jennifer announces that it’s “cocktail hour” and an usher leads the guests over to the bar and reception area to mingle while the close family takes pictures. Peter forgot all about pictures.

“Come on guys, the photographer told us to meet her over here for some photos,” Jennifer leads the way, her arm hooked around Jordan’s. MJ’s mom and Abby walk _behind_ Peter and MJ, which makes him incredibly nervous.

They stand around for a few minutes while the photographer takes more pictures of the bride and groom, and it’s a perfect time now as the sun’s beginning to set. Eventually the photographer calls the rest of the family up, and they take a few group pictures, then they take one with just Kyra, John, Abby, and Jennifer, then one with Kyra and MJ’s mom, and so on and so forth.

Peter feels weird that he’s in most of these when they aren’t even _actually_ dating.

Then it gets to Jennifer and Jordan and they take a few pictures: one just smiling and holding each other, then one kissing, then one with them just looking into each other’s eyes. Peter isn’t looking at MJ, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes.

And then, right as Peter thinks they’re _finally_ finished, she calls him and MJ up to take lovey, coupley pictures in front of her family. He wants to die.

He can tell MJ wants to put up a fight, but she holds back this time since it _is_ her aunt’s wedding. So she grabs Peter’s hand, and they awkwardly step in front of the large palm trees, the breeze flowing over them coolly.

“Let’s do a natural one first—just smile!” the photographer tells them, and MJ takes the lead by putting her arm around Peter and pulling him closer. They both smile then, and she takes the picture.

The next pose is a kiss, which feels _extremely_ awkward to do in front of the whole family. But again, MJ takes the lead and grabs his face, making a point to smile into the kiss and wrap her arms around his neck. He’s glad that she’s basically doing all of the work, because it makes him feel significantly less awkward about the whole thing knowing that _he_ doesn’t have to do it.

The last pose is by far the worst, though. The photographer gets MJ to hold Peter’s face in her hands, and then he has to put _his_ hands on her waist, and they’re forced to just stare into each other’s eyes. But instead of just getting it done and over with, right before the photographer takes the picture MJ starts smiling nervously. Which makes Peter start smiling nervously, and then they start laughing, and it’s _awful._ He always laughs when he’s tense, and obviously so does MJ.

So after attempting to stop laughing for _five whole minutes_ and being unsuccessful in it, the photographer just lets them go. Peter’s shoulders relax in relief.

He accidentally catches Abby’s eye as they’re walking back to stand with the other’s, and she just tilts her head and smirks. He looks away quickly, and pulls MJ closer.

Everyone but Kyra and John head to the reception now, still having a few more pictures to take. So they walk down the paved walkway, MJ’s heels clicking beside him. He turns to look at her and notices how much taller than him she really is with those on, and he smiles up at her. Her family didn’t like it and they tormented her about it, but he thinks it’s cute.

“Stop looking at me,” she nudges him suddenly, eyeing him from the side.

“Pssh, I..I _wasn’t,”_ he shakes his head, turning the other way.

There’s soft music playing from the speakers all around them when they get to the reception area, and when the DJ sees the group arrive, he lets everyone know over the microphone that it’s time to be seated. They find their assigned seats then, which are all at one table. Which means they unfortunately have to sit with Abby and MJ’s mom, too.

After about ten minutes when everyone’s found their table, the music suddenly gets louder and everyone turns to look at the walkway. Kyra and John make their grand entrance now, everyone standing and cheering as they walk down the the middle of the path to the dance floor, where everyone then quiets down as they have their first dance.

Jennifer wraps her arm around Jordan’s bicep, smiling at her mom and new step-dad slow dance on the floor. It’s the cliche wedding song “The Way You Look Tonight,” but it’s beautiful and Peter can’t help but smile too.

After the song ends they kiss, and everyone cheers and claps _again,_ before John gets the mic and gets ready for his speech. Kyra smiles up at him as his deep voice echoes through the speakers.

“I want to start out this speech by thanking everyone that’s come today,” he says, seeming nervous. Kyra squeezes his arm supportively. “As most of you know now, I’ve had a problem with shyness and anxiety my whole life. I’ve learned the hard way that it makes me come off as hostile or standoffish when really it’s just nerves.  This has made it difficult for me to do certain things like get through school, find a career, and _especially_ have a good relationship. But Kyra...she has helped me more than I ever thought possible. She didn’t judge me or think of me as stuck up like most people have, and she gave me a chance to show her who I really am under all of it. And now, with her, I’m here giving this speech that I could have _never_ given before I met her. I couldn’t be happier that I get to spend the rest of my life with you—my beautiful wife.”

Everyone around is smiling happily and there’s even a few tears shed, but Peter’s just in shock. He realizes now that _he_ was one of those judgy people that John had been talking about. When Peter first met him, he _did_ think he was rude, standoffish, and snobby, but he isn’t. He knows now that it was just nervousness, and Peter feels awful for misjudging him. Both he _and_ Kyra, actually. Yes, they’re rich and that usually comes with a few irritating and condescending traits, but on this trip he’s learned that they _are_ overall decent people. The best of the family, probably.

Kyra gives her speech then, talking about how much John has helped _her_ with so many things, and how happy she is to finally be marrying the love of her life. And then she ends the speech with, _“Now let’s eat!”_

The music cuts back up again, and this time it’s more upbeat as Kyra and John sit at the table closest to the dance floor, slightly apart from the rest of the guests.

Everyone’s buzzing and talking now as they look down at the menus that are being passed out by servers. Peter realizes that he’s never even been to a wedding where you _order_ your food before, so that throws him off a little, but it’s nice. Fancy, but nice.

He and MJ both can’t decide between whether they want steak and a seafood salad, or lobster and a baked potato. So they talk about it, and he ends up getting the steak and she ends up getting the lobster so they can share both.

MJ’s mom just looks around the reception area in distaste this entire time, before getting up to go to the bar—clutch in hand.

“Did I do okay up there during the wedding? I was trying not to laugh but I was so nervous!” Jennifer grins, looking over at MJ and Peter from across the table. Peter just thanks _god_ that Abby isn’t here. In fact, he doesn’t even know _where_ she’s at, until he looks over and sees her sitting by MJ’s mom at the bar. Big surprise.

“You looked great, Jenn, don’t worry,” MJ laughs, shaking her head. “Love your dress, too.”

“See? Told you,” Jordan laughs, wrapping his arm around Jennifer. She just smiles and rolls her eyes, leaning into him.

The servers come back with their food about fifteen minutes later, and pour wine into all of the glasses at the table.

“I’m actually good, thanks,” Peter tells the server politely, and MJ turns and gives him a weird look. He just ignores it and asks, “Can I just get a water, please?”

“Of course, coming right up,” the waiter tells him, stepping away.

“You aren’t drinking?” MJ asks, hesitating her mouth over _her_ glass of wine.

“After last night? And the hangover this morning?” Peter asks in a whisper, shaking his head. “No way.”

“Fine,” she huffs out, setting her own glass back down.

“I mean...you can still drink if you want,” Peter shrugs, looking over at her.

“Oh yeah? Thanks for your permission,” she smiles fakely at him, and he turns and rolls his eyes. He thanks god Jennifer or Jordan weren’t looking over at them bicker like that, because he’s pretty sure he couldn’t have held back the roll of his eyes to save his _life._

Her mom comes back to the table then, finishing off her martini before starting on her wine. He doesn’t know how she’s even _alive_ right now with how much she drinks.

They all eat their food then, both MJ and Peter eating half of theirs before switching plates with each other. It’s probably some of the best food Peter has _ever_ had, and he savors every single bite.

“Michelle, use your _manners._ I swear I can’t believe you’re my daughter sometimes."  her mom tells her in frustration, clenching her jaw angrily from across the table. Peter can tell she's _wasted._

If Jennifer and Jordan hear her comment, they don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure it’s because of what MJ said earlier about her relatives: _“In this family, you don’t say anything. You never do. You just look the other way and pretend it didn’t happen, or all hell will break loose.”_

He thinks about that, and looks at Jennifer and Jordan, annoyed with them. How can they continuously turn a blind eye to someone who’s being hurt?

So Peter purposely puts his elbows on the table then _just_ to make her mad.

She eyes him then, he can feel it, but he just pulls open a lobster leg and eats it sloppily, knowing she’s watching. She sits up from the table then and walks away with a huff, making _much_ more of a scene than MJ _ever_ did.

“Isn’t it kinda funny how big of a hypocrite she is?” Peter laughs and shakes his head, finishing his lobster leg.

“She’s seriously going to kill you, you know,” MJ nudges his arm, smiling slightly. “If I had to guess _how_ she would do it, I would say slow, painful torture. And I assume she adds another gruesome device _every time_ you make one of those comments.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” he shrugs it off, leaning back in his seat and looking over at Kyra and John smiling and laughing at something someone from the next table said to them. “I did when I got here, yeah, but not anymore.”

MJ looks at him for a few seconds, and he feels it, so he turns to look at her. She quickly glances away then, finishing off her steak.

Peter watches the sky for a while then, seeing the sun turn from orange, to pink, to black, and then notices how the strung up lights around them are more prominent than ever.

“Do you think it’d be okay if I took my jacket off? It’s pretty hot with all these layers,” Peter laughs lightly, pulling on his tie a little to loosen it. It’s almost been an hour since they started eating dinner now, and he wonders what’s happening next. And _when._

“Yeah, of course,” MJ bumps his arm, shaking her head like she didn’t understand _why_ he had to ask that. He just sighs and pulls it off, laying it over the back of his chair.

“Aloha,” Abby walks up to the table soon after, holding a cocktail in one hand and running her _other_ hand over Peter’s back as she passes him and sits down.

“Jeez, Abbs, where’ve you been?” Jennifer asks with a laugh, everyone’s eyes on Abby now.

“The bar? Duh,” she laughs, taking another drink. MJ leans back in her chair now too, rolling her eyes. Then she looks over at Peter, smiling. “So, Peter. Did you have a good time last night?”

She asks it in _that_ tone, and gives him _that_ look, and Peter’s mouth goes dry. What is he supposed to say to that?

“You mean after the club, right? Because I for one _know_ he had a great time _after,”_ MJ smiles, and Peter blushes at her suggestive comment. But of course it gets worse, because it’s MJ. “That lingerie under the dress _really_ did the trick, Jenn. We fucked, like, five times.”

“MJ!” Peter instinctively reaches up and covers her mouth, in complete disbelief that she _actually_ just said that. He also can’t believe that he’s the _only one_ that flinched even a _little_ at it.

“Damn, Peter,” Jenn laughs, reaching over the table to high five MJ. Peter sighs and puts his face in his hands.

Abby doesn’t reply, but he’s sure she has a scowl on her face.

“Attention!” They hear over the speakers now, looking up to see the DJ making an announcement. “Can we get the maids of honor and the best man up here for their speeches?”

Everyone claps as Jennifer, Abby, and the best man stand up, making their way to the stage to speak.

Kyra cries at Jennifer’s speech, because she talks about their lives growing up, and how Kyra gave her anything and everything she ever wanted including love. And it’s nice and heartwarming, and Jennifer has to reach up and wipe away her tears mid-speech. Then everyone claps and Jennifer hands the microphone over to the best man, before making her way back to the table.

Peter learns at the beginning of the next speech that the best man is John’s brother. He gives a typical best man speech, which includes giving an embarrassing story of John when he was young, before congratulating the bride and groom. Then he hands the mic to Abby.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty drunk. But I assume that’s all of us right about now, yeah?” she holds her drink in the air, and everyone laughs and does the same.

“Dear god,” MJ groans under her breath, crossing her arms.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say congrats to Mom and John—my new stepdad. Now let’s shut up and drink some more!” Everyone cheers as Abby hands the microphone back to the DJ.

“As of right now, the dance floor is officially open!” the DJ says into the mic, before blasting a song over the speakers.

Everyone gets up from their seats and head over to the _ginormous_ dance floor, drunk and laughing and having a good time.

Peter starts to get nervous. They’ll have to dance too, right? He knows that’s what people do at weddings, yeah, but _he_ can’t dance. Especially not with MJ, who is fearless.

So he breathes out and keeps watching everyone, feeling awkward when Jordan grabs Jennifer and pulls her up too. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, feeling himself start to sweat under his shirt with nerves now as he reaches up and loosens his tie even more.

“I know you’re desperately trying to avoid it, but...you know we’re gonna dance, right?” MJ turns to him, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, I know,” he laughs, breathing out. He gathers some courage and stands up, holding his hand out to her. “Let’s just do it.”

“Bold,” she grins, grabbing his hand and standing up. “I like it.”

Their fingers intertwine then as he walks ahead, leading them to the dance floor. The truth is, he’s felt bold all day really. After last night, he’s felt invincible and like he can do _anything._

The music is upbeat now, switching from “You Make My Dreams,” by Hall and Oates, to “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” by Stevie Wonder. MJ just grabs Peter’s hands and moves them around with hers, singing the words of the songs loudly. From there it jumps to “This Will Be (An Everlasting Love),” and then, of course, “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas.

“Time to settle down and hold your loved ones close for some slower songs!” the DJ tells everyone, making a breathless Peter and MJ look at each other and laugh nervously. She takes her shoes off and sets them on the outskirts of the dance floor, before coming back to Peter.

“Come here,” MJ breathes out with a smile, wrapping her arms around his neck. Just then “You and Me” by Lifehouse starts playing, and Peter takes in a sharp breath as he sets his hands on MJ’s waist. Everyone’s dancing slowly now, just swaying back and forth as the calming music plays.

Peter looks up and around the dance floor, seeing all of the lights strung up above them, and the palm trees blowing in the breeze. It was all beautiful when he saw it earlier in the daytime, but now, at night, it’s _magical._

“So now that the trip is practically over,” MJ smiles at him, her thumb gently rubbing the back of his neck. She leans in and whispers in his ear, not wanting to risk people overhearing. “What did you think? Was fake dating me and having to deal with my crazy ass family worth the week in Hawaii?”

She pulls back then and he gulps, and his heart is racing in his chest and it’s thumping in his ears.

“Yeah, it was,” he laughs and nods, breathing out. “Definitely.”

“Sure, Peter,” she laughs, looking at him, in his eyes, before humming along to the song and laying her head against his shoulder.

He listens to the song, listens to the words, hearing, _“‘Cause it’s you, and me, and all of the people, with nothing to do, nothing to lose—and it’s you, and me, and all of the people, and I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.”_ And right now, as cliche as it is with her head on his shoulder and his arms around her, those lyrics are hitting uncomfortably close to home.

He closes his eyes and clutches her tighter, overwhelmed with feelings. Something has changed, something big, and he’s terrified to face it.

He notices the way his heartbeat speeds up now when he looks at her. The way his palms start to sweat, the way his stomach flips, the way he _has_ to gulp because it’s impossible _not_ to when he sees her. And a week ago, _only_ a week ago, he never had this problem. In fact, a week ago he couldn’t stand her. He couldn’t stand being around her, or seeing her walk in his apartment with her dirty, muddy boots, and fall uninvited into his couch for hours. He was annoyed by the way she rolled her eyes, and the way she called him an idiot at the ending of every sentence she spoke to him, and the way she did that annoying thing where she couldn’t take _anything_ seriously.

But now? Now those are the things that make him look at her like she’s the only person in the world, and make him want to yell at her family for treating her the way that they do, and make him want to be around her every second for the rest of his life. Because now he looks forward to seeing her eyes roll, and the way she calls him an idiot with that small smile on her lips, and the way she makes everything easier by _not_ taking everything so seriously.

And now, with his hands on her waist, and them swaying slowly to the song, he faces the hard, painful truth he’s been in total denial over for days. He knows now that he’s completely, entirely, intoxicatingly in love with MJ. And he has no idea how it all happened.

He’s scared and confused and this is the worst time possible for him to come to this realization, because she’s pulling back now and looking at him with _that_ MJ smile, and he already couldn’t breathe _before._

The song echoes around them, saying, _“Everything she does is beautiful, everything she does is right.”_ And their bodies are pressed together, and they’re moving slowly, and he wants to kiss her more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Cheesy, I know, but I love this song,” she shrugs and laughs, and he forces a smile and nod to agree.

He looks at her, and watches her sing it under her breath, and his heart feels so heavy in his chest that it _hurts._

“You’re so beautiful,” Peter mutters out, and she turns and looks at him, rolling her eyes.

“What, are you trying to get in my pants again or something?” she laughs, nudging him. She obviously isn’t very used to receiving compliments, because she always gets awkward when he gives them. But it’s _her_ kind of awkward, where she deflects. “You already said that earlier.”

“I know,” he nods, not even cracking a smile even though he _wants_ to just so it would be less intense. “I just really meant it.”

She hesitates then, unsure of what to say. Then she smiles and shrugs, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thanks, Peter,” she laughs, looking down at her feet. “You know, you kinda look good yourself. With your sleeves rolled up, your tie loose, your hair messy. Not to gas you up or anything, but careless Peter is…sort of sexy.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m serious,” she laughs too, grabbing his tie and wrapping it around her hand, pulling him closer with it and biting her lip. “It’s really kind of turning me on.”

He looks at her, in her eyes, trying to figure out if she’s joking or not. But she’s pulling him closer by his tie, and she’s looking down at his lips, and she’s smirking, and he doesn’t really care at all anymore about whether she’s joking or not, because she’s really going to kiss him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Peter, can I have this dance?” Kyra asks, smiling and holding her hand out. They were _maybe_ an inch from kissing, so Peter didn’t even realize the song had just ended and the next began.

God, Kyra has awful timing.

“He’s all yours,” MJ sighs with a laugh, letting go of him as Kyra pulls him to the middle of the dance floor. Peter looks back and sees John twirling MJ now, both of them laughing.

“Having fun?” Kyra asks with a smile, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist. Peter’s sort of confused on _why_ this is happening, but he goes along with it anyway.

“Yeah, of course,” he laughs, nodding his head. “It’s all so beautiful. The venue, the ceremony, the lights. Food was great, too.”

“Thanks, Peter,” she laughs, smiling and tilting her head, barely moving with the music. “John and I are leaving for our honeymoon tonight, so I wanted to tell you something before we left. Something important.”

This _instantly_ makes Peter nervous, but he nods and asks, “yeah?”

“I like you. A lot more than I thought I would, actually,” she tells him, and he gulps. “Michelle needs you. She won’t say it, but she does. And I know why she did all of this, and I can’t blame her. But you should tell her before the trip’s over.”

“Tell her...what?” Peter asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I think you know what,” her aunt tells him, patting his shoulder with a small smile.

And he _does_ know. She wants him to tell MJ about his feelings for her, about how he’s in love with her. But for her to say that would mean that she _knows_ this is all fake. She must know that it was all an elaborate lie to make this trip easier for MJ, and she understands. She never said anything, or hinted that she knew, and Peter’s palms start sweating. Especially since _he_ just realized he was in love with her, and Kyra _already_ knew.

“Once you get back home, it’s going to be too easy to fall back into your routine and get comfortable again. That’s why you need to tell her before you leave.” she speaks firmly, not exactly making it an _order_ but implying it as a very strong suggestion. The two seem very similar though when she uses that tone.

“I’ll...I’ll try,” he nods, feeling weird that this is all hitting him so fast. He only _just_ realized his true feelings for MJ, and now it’s all coming at him so rapidly that he doesn’t know what to do. “How long did you know? About me and MJ?”

“Saturday at dinner,” she smiles proudly, shrugging.

“The first night?” he asks, standing still now. He’s actually _shocked._ “So Sunday when you brought the...outfit, and made us kiss…”

“I was just giving you both a little nudge,” she laughs, and he breathes out, completely dumbfounded. “I could see the discomfort between you two like it was all clearly new— _not_ a five month relationship. But then I saw the way you looked at her, the way _she_ looked at _you..._ I knew it wasn’t _all_ an act.”

“She doesn’t look at me like that,” Peter smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“I’ve seen her,” Kyra tells him, sure of herself. “And I know she does.”

But Peter already knows MJ’s a good actress. She can turn that look on and off _instantly_ when she wants to. But he doesn’t say that, because Kyra seems very confident in her assumptions.

“Her mom doesn’t know, does she?” Peter asks nervously, glancing over Kyra’s shoulder to see MJ’s mom drinking at the bar.

“No, I think you were successful,” Kyra gives an encouraging smile, and Peter breathes out a nervous laugh, looking at the floor. The song ends then, and Kyra and Peter hug, before she says _“tell MJ”_ one last time before they part ways and go find their real dance partners.

“She give you a lecture on having safe sex with her niece?” MJ asks, pushing herself off the wall she was leaning against as he makes his way through the crowd.

“Just some...tips,” he smiles, and MJ narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to interrogate him about it, but then the DJ announces that it’s time to cut the cake. Peter thanks _god_ he didn’t have to sit there and make up _more_ lies.

Everyone gathers around to watch Kyra and John feed each other the cake, laughing and smiling as the photographer takes pictures. The rest of the guests grab a plate of cake then too, and momentarily go back to their seats to eat it before all heading _back_ to the dance floor.

Peter and MJ dance for probably another half hour then, sometimes it’s upbeat, sometimes it’s slow. It’s pretty painful to be this close to her either way.

“Say cheese!” The photographer holds the camera to her eye, standing beside them to take their picture. The flash goes off as Peter watches MJ smile at the camera, and then she turns to him and says, _“Peter, seriously, we need to take one good picture for Kyra’s sake. So actually look at the camera, please?”_

But he just grabs her face and kisses her, and she laughs against him and holds his arms. He sees the flash of the camera go off even behind his eyelids, as they hold each other close and press their lips together.

He’s kissed her countless times this week, but now, after the realization, it feels different. It’s passionate, it’s desperate, it _means_ something. And, worst of all, it _hurts._

“Jeez, Peter, we already got the picture taken,” MJ pulls back with a breathless laugh, before continuing to dance like nothing happened. She doesn’t know he was just doing it because he _wanted_ to.

They dance for a little while longer after that, before there’s an announcement for the grand exit. So they all gather around again to watch, as Kyra and John pump their fists in the air as they run out and to their limo. Everyone’s clapping and cheering as they drive away, off to their honeymoon.

“Ready to go?” MJ asks Peter, slipping her shoes back on.

“Yeah, sure,” he nods, following her through the mass of people who are _also_ trying to get back. And about eighty-five percent of these people are all going where _they_ are going.

Eventually they find their rental car and tell the driver to take them home, MJ leaning back against the seat.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Peter turns to her, barely able to see her in the dark car. “I had fun.”

“I...kinda did too,” MJ shrugs, seeming surprised by it. “I think it’s just because I only saw mom and Abby, like, once, but I’ll take it.”

They both laugh then and stare out the window for the rest of the half-hour drive home, just relaxing.

Peter has no idea how he’s going to tell her. Or _if_ he’s going to even tell her at all. She very clearly doesn’t feel the same way about him, and he’s so incredibly _petrified_ that he’ll ruin a friendship that only _just_ really began.

“Finally,” MJ sighs as they pull up to the bungalows, seeing about a million _more_ cars there too. Everyone is gathered on the dock mingling and catching up as if they _didn’t_ just spend four hours together. They very carefully avoid MJ’s mom, as MJ slips her shoes back off as they walk to the dock.

They’re trying to pass by easily and unseen, but here’s one of the unfortunate things about being at the very _end_ of the dock: someone catches Peter’s arm and strikes up a pointless, drunken conversation about how _he_ knows the bride and groom. MJ just stands there laughing at him and shaking her head, as she holds her shoes at her side and waits for him.

Mid-conversation Peter notices someone approach MJ from the corner of his eye, so he turns to look. It’s her mom.

“Come here,” she grumbles angrily under her breath, grabbing MJ’s arm roughly and dragging her away from the crowd, down the dock. She pulls MJ so hard that she stumbles for a moment, before finally finding her feet and walking alongside her.

None of their family seems to notice or care, which makes Peter confused and frustrated and angry. He watches them carefully. He know it’s rude to the man talking to him, but he knows this is more important. He’s not taking his eyes off of them just in case MJ might need him.

He has a feeling she will.

Her mom points at MJ’s bare feet, and although Peter can’t hear her from where he’s at, he can see she’s yelling. MJ’s looking down at the dock, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” Peter tells the man who is _still_ talking to him, now walking towards where they’re standing. He’s furious.

He can start to hear her mom’s voice now—loud and angry and _mean._ And still MJ stands there quietly, not putting up a fight.

“You think you can just _ignore_ me, Michelle? I am your _mother!”_ her mom yells now, and MJ grips at the sides of her dress nervously.

“All I did was take my shoes off. They were killing me,” MJ’s voice shakes, and Peter’s heart is racing as he walks faster now. “All of these people are drunk anyway—I doubt they even noticed. I’m surprised _you_ even noticed with how drunk you are.”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to me like that in front of our family,” her mom seethes in anger, and MJ flinches as she raises her hand up at her.

“Don’t touch her!” Peter yells out now, and then puts his hands out in front of him, using all of his force to push her mom off the dock and into the water.

“Oh _shit,”_ MJ gasps, putting her hand on her mouth. There’s a huge splash, and everyone’s looking, and Peter feels blind, hot _rage_ boil through his veins.

“You don’t deserve her,” Peter yells down at her mom, who’s just now resurfacing and flailing and already screaming at them. But Peter ignores it and grabs MJ’s hand, pulling her with him into their bungalow. He ignores all of the eyes on them too, breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he feels his adrenaline kick in.

“We’re leaving. We aren’t staying here another day,” Peter gulps, his voice a shaky mess as he makes his way to his suitcase, stuffing everything in. “She’s...she’s _abusive,_ MJ. Emotionally and physically, and none of your family does _shit_ about it. Just pack your bags, okay?”

“Peter,” she stands there, and he glances at her, but he turns back to grab his suitcase, shaking his head.

“We’ll go home, and you won’t have to be here anymore. You don’t need her—you don’t need any of them. Don’t worry about anything—we’ll figure it all out later, just get your stuff.” he breathes out, moving to walk over to the bathroom to gather the rest of his things.

“Peter,” she says more firmly now, pressing her hand to his chest to stop him, breathing out a laugh.

“What?” he asks, his fists still clenched at his sides in anger. He doesn’t know how she could be smiling right now, or exerting _any_ sort of positive emotion, because he’s still in a rage.

She leans in then and kisses him, laughing into it, holding his face there. His hands unclench at his sides then and his shoulders relax, and he feels the anger in him dissipate as she presses her forehead to his, breathing out.

And then she pushes him against the wall.

“What...what’s happening?” Peter asks, confused at the scarily-sudden change in events.

“You stood up for me, you helped me, you...you did something no one has _ever_ done for me before,” she looks at him and gulps, and Peter is _sure_ he sees something like nervousness in MJ. MJ, someone he thought could _never_ get nervous. “So I’m gonna do something that no one has ever done for _you_ before.”

“MJ, you don’t have t-” he starts, but she grabs him through his pants and he can’t finish his thought.

“Shut up, Peter,” she laughs a little, breathless herself as she kisses him and starts moving her hand slowly. “I want to,” she whispers lowly, “God, I want to.”

 _“MJ,”_ he moans out as their lips part, his eyes closing as he buries his face in her neck. He’s trying to kiss her there to help her too, but he’s gasping for air and he can’t keep his mind on track long enough to focus.

“For once in your life, stop worrying about everyone else,” she laughs against his ear, her breathing strained even though _he’s_ the one being touched right now.

“Don’t do this because you think you...you owe me or something,” he tells her, trying to stay sensible long enough to get it out.

“Trust me, it’s not that,” she tells him, kissing his neck. “Now _shut up_ and relax.”

She moves her hand slightly faster now, making a barely-noticeable increase in speed. But Peter notices.

“Does that feel good?” she asks him, her voice a hoarse whisper against his ear. His back is against the wall, but he’s panting against her shoulder and his fingers are curled around the back of her neck and he’s struggling to breathe. He nods desperately, letting his hand pull tighter around her side to replace the words of confirmation he can’t manage to speak out.

She then stops momentarily to quickly unbutton his pants, before spitting on her hand and pushing it down into his boxers. It’s direct contact now, and he groans against the skin of her shoulder and grips her harder. He clutches her against him, and then tilts his head up to kiss her again. It’s messy and breathless but neither mind—especially Peter. He just wants her close to him.

“We need some lotion,” she tells him, still moving her hand. He can’t even believe he’s actually sober, because right now he’s never felt more intoxicated or dizzy or surreal. “Or I’ll just use my mouth. What do you want?”

“No, I’m...I’m already about to finish,” he starts, breathless as he feels himself getting dangerously close. “Where can I…?”

“On me,” she still holds him as she gets down on her knees and starts pulling the straps of her dress down her arms with her other hand. Even though her words bring him even closer to release, he _can’t_ do it.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, leaving her there and quickly going to the bathroom. He props his hand on the wall behind the toilet, now using the same lotion he’s been using this entire trip to finish himself off.

It doesn’t take him long when he imagines MJ’s hand on him through his boxers, moving like she knew exactly what he needed and when he needed it. He’s sweating and moaning now, and when he _does_ finish, he stands there and takes it all in, trying to recover from the strongest orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

He washes his hands and breathes in, looking at himself in the mirror for a moment, before shakily walking back into the room. MJ’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes glancing up from the floor to look at him.

“It’s not fair, you know,” she raises an eyebrow, tilting her head.

“What isn’t?” he asks, blushing now just from _looking_ at her. None of it feels real, and it seems weird to try and talk normal and _be_ normal after that.

“You got to see my orgasm face,” she tilts her head, looking at him with a small smile. “But I didn’t get to see yours.”

“I’m sorry for running out like that, seriously,” he gulps, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t even care if she knows he’s nervous now. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that...that experienced stuff.”

“You really don’t have to be a sex god to ejaculate on someone, Peter,” she laughs a little, leaning back on her hands.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. I can’t, like...I don’t know,” he breathes out, flushing in embarrassment. “I’m still sort of shy about it, okay? It’s still new for me. All of it.”

He thinks she’s going to make a virgin joke about him, but she doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” she nods, understanding. “I’ll go easier on you next time then.”

He wants to say _“next time?”_ but he doesn’t. He leaves it at that, and sits back down on the bed next to her. He feels awkward now, because he has no idea what you’re “supposed” to do after an activity like... _that._

“God, I can’t believe I’m sober right now,” she laughs out, falling back against the bed.

“Me neither,” Peter gulps and forces a laugh, uncertain on how he feels.

He knows he _should_ feel good that the girl he’s in love with just gave him a handjob, but it mostly just leaves him thinking about how they both have a completely different outlook on it. For him, it’s a magical moment that shows someone just _how much_ you care, and it’s raw and it’s beautiful and it’s life changing. For her, she has no emotional attachment, no semblance of love or care from it—it _just_ feels good and that’s the extent of it.

“I know I was still really angry when I said it, but I still think we should leave,” Peter speaks softly, turning to look at her. “We shouldn’t be here with her. _You_ shouldn’t be here with her.”

“I don’t want to make a big scene,” MJ breathes out, gulping. He still doesn’t know how her mom _fully_ reacted to that, but he really, really doesn’t want to see her and find out.

“I think I already made the biggest scene there _could’ve_ been,” he laughs, hesitating a moment, before setting his hand on top of hers. “Seriously, MJ, just say the word and I’ll figure something out.”

She exhales then and looks down at their hands, before flipping hers upright and intertwining their fingers together. “Yeah. I...I don’t want to stay here with her until Sunday.”

He nods and squeezes her hand, looking at her for a moment, before standing up and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He sees about fifteen texts from Ned, but he ignores them and calls May. His hands are still shaking.

“Peter? It’s so good to hear from you again!” May says into the phone, right as Peter steps out the backdoor and stands on the porch, keeping his voice low.

“I know, I miss you so much,” he laughs, reaching up to push his hair back “I...I have a favor. I know you don’t have a ton of cash or anything, and I get that, but-”

“Peter, are you in trouble? What’s wrong?” May asks into the phone, worry evident in her voice.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. We’re fine,” he tells her, still keeping his voice low so MJ can’t hear him. “It’s just...the wedding was today. And it was great until something happened with MJ’s mom, and it was really, really bad, and I just...I can’t let MJ stay here with her anymore. She’s awful, May, and she says awful things to her. I just want to bring her home, but the flight back isn’t until Sunday. I need tickets for tonight. Or tomorrow, or _anything_ sooner.”

“Of course, Peter. Of course,” Aunt May tells him, and he suddenly thanks _god_ he has her. “I’m grabbing my laptop right now to book a flight for you guys.”

“Thanks, May,” he laughs out in relief, staring out at the moon’s reflection on the waves. He really is gonna miss this place. “I’ll pay you back. I’ll get a job after classes, or pick up a night shift somewhere, or I’ll just find _something_ so I can pay you back. I just have to get her out.”

“Don’t worry about all of that now, okay, honey? We’ll figure it out. Just get home safely—both of you.” she tells him softly, typing away at her computer. “I’m finding a flight now, and I’ll email you the tickets and information when I book them.”

“Thanks _so_ much. I love you,” he smiles, and then turns around to walk back through the door and to the bungalow. But MJ’s there, leaning against the door frame like she’s been listening the whole time. She’s only in a towel. “Uh...I gotta go. Thanks so much for everything. I’ll see you soon.”

She says her goodbyes too, before Peter slips his phone into his pocket and looks up at her. Did she hear _all_ of that?

“So you’re gonna get a job for me, huh?” MJ smirks slightly, using her hand to hold her towel up.

“Yeah, I was just...trying to figure some stuff out,” he shrugs, scratching his neck anxiously. “Are you taking a shower? Because I’ll just stay out here.”

“No, Peter,” she tells him, grabbing his tie and bringing him closer. She kisses him on the lips slowly then, teasingly, before whispering against his mouth, _“We’re_ taking a shower.”

And then her towel drops to the floor, and she pulls him inside.


	9. Home Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is legit almost 15k words lmao I hope you guys enjoy!!!!

“You’re...naked,” he mutters out, gulping as she leads him inside the bungalow and to the shower. It’s already on, and there’s a thick layer of steam lining the glass walls of it.

“Yeah, I am,” she brings him closer to her, looking in his eyes. She maintains eye contact as she reaches up and easily pulls the knot from his tie, before sliding it from his neck and letting it drop to the floor.

He wants to look down at her, at her body, but he can’t. He forces himself not to, actually, because his thoughts are jumbled up messily in his brain, which means he has no idea what he would do if he _did_ see her naked in front of him. Probably go into cardiac arrest, realistically, but he would rather not test that theory.

“I...I thought you were gonna go easy on me,” he stutters out dumbly, as she unbuttons his shirt and then pulls it off his arms.

He’s in shock. It all happened so fast, and now she’s completely naked and standing in front of him, and he has absolutely _no_ idea what to do, or what to say, or what to think.

And he doesn’t know if he can do this sober.

“Do you _want_ me to go easy on you?” She asks, glancing between his eyes. By the look on her face, he’s convinced she already knows his answer.

“No,” his voice cracks as he breathes out his reply, looking in her eyes too. “No, I don’t.”

She steps forward then and gives him a searing kiss, using her hands to reach down and unbuckle his belt. He kicks his shoes off and kisses her back, trying to ignore the scared, nervous, insecure part of himself. He just wants to focus on her and them, and try _not_ worry about what this means, or what’s going to happen afterwards. He knows they may not be doing it for the same reasons, but it’s hard for him to ignore how much _he_ wants to be with her, no matter the reason _she’s_ doing it.

“I’ve never been...naked in front of anyone before,” Peter whispers as she hooks her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, their noses touching, their breathing loud and heavy. “Except Ned. But it wasn’t...like this. It was an accident, you know, I was coming out of the ba-”

“Peter,” MJ laughs lightly, before kissing him again to shut him up. He breathes out and nods, trying to relax.

“Sorry,” he laughs too, trying to calm himself down before he _actually_ passes out.

“I felt you earlier,” she replies and looks down, smirking as she looks back up. “I don’t think there’s anything you should be nervous about.”

He gulps.

“I’ll wait in the shower until you’re ready,” she tells him, walking over and opening the door. His eyes rake over her fully naked body now: her long, tan legs, her hips, her _chest._ “Don’t take too long or I might have to start without you. Again.”

She gives him the decency to look out at the ocean instead of watch him, as he tries to build the courage to take his boxers off and follow her in.

He watches as she stands under the waterfall shower head, pushing her wet hair back, staring out at the view. And he knows that yeah, he’s terrified, but the want he has for her right now is _much_ stronger than his fear of all the things that could go wrong.

So he takes in a long, jagged breath, before pulling his boxers off and stepping into the shower.

She doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she’s just giving him privacy again, but she doesn’t turn around. So he walks up behind her and brushes her hair to the side, before leaning down and pressing his lips against her shoulder.

The water is hot, _steaming,_ as she leans into him, into his touch, and he slides his hands down her arms. She tilts her head slightly to give him more access, and he kisses her neck softly, slowly.

She sighs and presses herself back against his boner, and he lets out a breathless gasp against her skin from the contact. His eyes are closed and his skin is tingling from the warmth of the water, and MJ is pressing her ass against him.

He’s pretty sure this is the best moment of his entire life.

“You’re so hard,” she breathes out a laugh, pressing her hand against the glass window in front of her to hold herself up.

“For you,” he mutters out against her skin, his hands sliding down her back just because he _can._

She must have liked that answer, because she turns around then and looks at him, her eyes dark and hungry and desperate. And then she pulls him closer and kisses him feverishly.

One of his hands slide around to the back of her neck and the other falls on the wet, slippery glass behind her, and they’re kissing and Peter’s head is whirling and he can’t believe he’s naked in the shower with MJ. _MJ._

“Jesus, Peter, put your hands on me,” she exhales, grabbing his hand and setting it against her chest.

He unlatches his lips from hers and looks at her—really _looks_ at her—seeing the water droplets running down her face, before dripping off her lips and down her chest. The chest that his hand is on and cupping her in. He stares in admiration, before running his thumb across her hard nipple. He didn’t think it was possible, but his heart starts beating even faster.

He looks at her and silently asks _“is this okay?”_ She nods in confirmation and runs her fingers through his hair, before he leans down and takes her in his mouth. She moans and throws her head back, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck as he swirls his tongue around her nipple.

“Use your teeth,” she gasps out, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck.

“Won’t that hurt you?” He asks, momentarily pulling his mouth off of her to look up and ask.

“That’s the fun of it,” She exhales out a breathy laugh, biting her lip. He gulps _again,_ before leaning back down and complying to her request, using his hand to palm the other nipple that he isn’t occupying with his mouth.

 _“Fuck,_ Peter,” she digs her fingers into the back of his neck roughly, making him groan into her skin and press his fingers into her hip with his free hand. He moves to the other soon after, earning a multitude of moans and whimpers from her, before she pulls him up by his hair and looks in his eyes.

“Your goddamn mouth,” she whispers and laughs, before crashing her lips into his hotly. She scratches her fingers through his hair, and he groans deeply against her and grips her harder.

“You like when I pull your hair, don’t you?” She applies more pressure with her fingertips now, and Peter sighs and sets his hand on the glass behind her again. He shuts his eyes and kisses her shoulder, nodding desperately.

The water is hot against his back, her hands are pulling at his hair, and he’s _aching_ for her. His body is shaky and full of adrenaline, and all he wants is to feel the _release_ flood through him. But he also wants this moment to last forever.

She turns and pushes him against the glass now, kissing him and using her hands to run down his arms. Then she kisses down his jaw, his neck, his chest, and down his abs. And then she gets down on her knees in front of him.

She’s looking in his eyes as she grabs his hand and guides it to her head, winding it in her hair. He takes in a sharp, uneven breath as he looks down at her.

She finally grabs him in her hand, moving it slowly up his length once, before running her thumb over his tip. That sends a jolt of euphoria through him, and he instinctively leans his head back and moans, tightening the grip on her hair.

She puts her lips on him then, and he feels the warmth of her mouth around him as she slowly takes all of him in.

 _“MJ,”_ he gasps out, his eyes squeezed shut as she starts moving faster now. He feels her tongue swirling skillfully against him, and her hand is moving quickly at his base. She’s bobbing her head up and down rapidly, and she’s moaning against him, and the hot water is pouring down against their sweaty skin.

He _knows_ he won’t last long if she keeps going at this rate.

“Wait,” he breathes out, pulling her hair back so he can look at her.  “I...I wanna do this together.”

“Are you saying you finally want to fuck me, Peter?” she pulls him out of her mouth, slowly using her hand to get him off now as she smiles up at him.

“Not in those words exactly, but...” he gulps, and she stands up now to kiss him, smiling into it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” she laughs, blindly reaching over and feeling on top of one of the shower ledges to grab something in a small package. And then, while still kissing him, she starts opening it.

He pulls his lips from hers then, looking down at the condom she’s pulling out of it’s wrapper.

“You had this in here already?” he asks, looking at her incredulously. “Did you know this was gonna happen?”

“I _hoped_ it would happen,” she shrugs, and he gulps as she rolls it onto him. “I’m a very prepared person.”

He thinks carefully over the fact that she anticipated and _wanted_ this, and that makes him want it all—and her—even more.

“You ready to be inside of me, Parker?” she laughs breathlessly, biting her lip as she looks in his eyes, positioning herself on top of him. He feels like he should be blushing at that, but he isn’t.

“I _really_ am,” he laughs too, and she looks slightly shocked. _Proud,_ of course, but shocked. Mostly because she only said it in the first place _just_ to embarrass him, but it didn’t work.

She gives him this hot, _I’m-so-turned-on-by-that_ face, before pressing her forehead against his as she lowers herself onto him. They both let out shaky sighs as he enters her, and she gently bites against his shoulder as she lets herself adjust around him. She’s so wet that he slides in _easily,_ and the fact that she’s so turned on turns _him_ on even more. Again, he didn’t think that was possible.

She wraps her arms around his neck then, before he grabs her thighs and she locks her legs around his waist, beginning to stir against him. It’s not long before she starts moving fast and hastily, letting out quick, helpless moans against the skin of his cheek as she moves. And although it _feels_ good (incredible, actually), this isn’t exactly how he imagined his first time.

He’s much more of a romantic than she is, apparently.

“Let’s slow down a little,” he whispers to her, flipping them around so her back is against the glass and he’s in control. She exhales out a frustrated laugh, leaning her head back against the glass.

“Fine,” she huffs out, letting him take over. “Show me what you’ve got then, Parker.”

He pushes further into her now, barely even able to contain _himself_ as he presses his mouth against her collarbone, gripping under her thighs while he moves inside her. She gasps loudly and presses one of her hands against the glass beside her—the other pulling at his hair to encourage him further.

“Is this okay? Are you okay?” he asks, desperately searching her face to make sure she’s enjoying it as much as he is.

“I’m fine,” she answers chastely, her eyes shut and her lips parted to gasp for air. “I’d be even better if you started screwing me faster though.”

She then starts trying to quicken her pace on him again, but he holds her hips to steady her, still working at a much slower rhythm. He has his arms wrapped around her and his eyes are closed as their foreheads press together, and he’s slowly moving in and out of her, feeling her warmness around him. He could swear he’s seeing stars.

“I know you’re sensitive and wanna go slow and all that, but Peter, I swear if you don’t start fucking the hell out of me right now I’m gonna have to kill you,” she pants hotly against his mouth, practically begging now.

“Why can’t we go slow?” Peter asks, his voice weak as he presses his nose against hers.

“I should have known you were a “it’s not having sex, it’s making love” kind of person,” she groans, letting her head fall hopelessly against his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asks, pulling back to look at her face. “This is…it’s my first time. I just want it to be…”

“Special?” she asks, a small smile on her lips. He’s nervous at first that she’s making fun of him, but she leans in and kisses him softly, running her thumb along his jaw. “Okay. Okay, let’s just...go slow then. If I start trying to go faster, just stop me again.”

And he _does_ have to stop her, too—twice. Both times her breathing starts getting shallow, and she gets impatient, so she quickens her pace drastically. He just grabs her hips and stops her _again_ , and she groans with an annoyed laugh as he kisses her and laughs too.

He accidentally slips out of her twice, and then his foot slips on the wet floor _three_ times (which was terrifying because he was holding up his _and_ her weight) _,_ but they just breathlessly laugh it off, get back in place, and keep going. He’s actually sort of glad for these ‘mishaps,’ because they make him come back to reality and enjoy all of this even _more._ It helps him last longer, too.

“Harder, Peter,” she sinks her nails against his shoulder, pleading now. Even though it was his idea to go slow, her words, her movements, and the way she’s crying out _his_ name makes him quicken his pace anyway. MJ feels it instantly and grips him harder, letting out a helpless moan against his skin.

She reaches down and uses a finger to desperately rub her clit, throwing her head back again and moaning at the feeling. Peter watches and gulps.

“I wish I could help right now but I sort of have to be using my hands to keep us up,” he laughs out, the air hot and thick all around them.

“You’re already doing enough for me Peter—trust me,” she tells him through a pant, before swallowing thickly. He nudges her nose with his which brings her face back up, and he kisses her. He finally kisses her like he loves her.

“I’m close,” he pants against her lips, before kissing her cheek, her ear, her hair. He still can’t believe this is all really happening. And especially not in a paradise like this, in this nice bungalow on the water, where they can see the beautiful, blue ocean through the glass of the shower.

“Me too,” she rolls her hips against his once, twice, and he feels his orgasm building quickly. He feels the familiar, desperate ache in his lower stomach, and he can feel it growing with every single move she makes. The third time that she rolls her hips onto him, he _knows_ it’s all about to happen, so he kisses her lips so he can feel all of this with her, against her, _in_ her.

As mushy as it is, he always thought he would be doing this with someone he loves. And although he technically is, it still feels strange that it’s not with someone who loves _him._ Not in the same way, at least—but he’s trying not to think about that right now. He doesn’t _want_ to think about that right now, in this perfect moment where she’s sighing his name in want, in _need,_ and she’s moving her body against his.

She surprisingly orgasms first, but when he feels her tighten around him and she moans loudly against his mouth as she reaches her peak, he feels his own release crashing over him. He groans against her, kissing her as she keeps moving her body over him, on top of him, slower, slower, before she lets out a shaky sigh and her head falls weakly against his shoulder.

“Holy _shit,”_ she laughs out a few moments later after her comedown, her voice shaky and uneven. Peter can hardly _think,_ let alone get out words, so he just breathes out against her hair and keeps his eyes closed. “You really _have_ done your research.”

After they both semi-recover from their simultaneous climax, he pulls out of her and sets her feet back down against the tile, before rolling off the condom and throwing it in the trash outside the shower.

It feels strange now to _not_ be in her, or feel her body pressed into his, or feel her breath against his skin.

“So?” MJ asks, a steady stream of water pouring over her. She pushes her wet hair back, looking at him.

“So...what?” he asks, gulping. His arm is resting on the glass to hold himself up, and he’s still desperately trying to catch his breath. He hopes it doesn’t come off as nonchalant, because that’s the _last_ thing he is right now.

“So was your first time special?” she asks, bumping his arm. Her voice is still cracking slightly, and her breath is uneven, and she’s _also_ leaning her arm against the wall to steady herself. He can tell she’s trying to play it cool—like she _isn’t_ doing any of those things because of him, even though she is.

“Yeah,” he nods, laughing shyly as he rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t know what to say—mostly because there are _no words_ in the English language—or _any_ language for that matter—that could accurately describe his feelings right now. So he just replies: “Yeah, it was great. _Really_ great. Thanks.”

“You’re _thanking_ me for having sex with you?” she laughs, narrowing her eyes at him and slapping a small amount of shampoo onto his head. “Loser.”

“What else am I supposed to say?” he asks, gulping as he reaches up to rub it into his scalp.

“I don’t know, maybe something like _‘that was the best experience of my life, MJ,’”_ she laughs, now rubbing shampoo into her _own_ hair next to him.

They were _showering together_ , and now they’re actually just _showering_ together. This all feels surreally mundane following what they were just doing.

“That was _definitely_ the best experience of my life, MJ,” he replies with a laugh, standing under the shower head to rinse out the shampoo from his hair.

She looks at him then like she’s surprised, assuming he would reply with a snide comment. But then she reaches up and pushes her fingers through his hair, helping him rinse the shampoo from it with a laugh. And upon seeing the sudsy-bubbles still in _her_ hair, he reaches around her arms and starts rinsing the shampoo from hers too.

“Idiot,” she laughs again, and he laughs too, and they’re standing under the hot shower and smiling at each other.

He doesn’t know how to act, or what to say, because he’s so overwhelmed with feelings for her right now that he sort of feels like he _might_ die. And he’s so in love with her that it _hurts,_ and after what they just did, it all feels a million times more difficult—something he didn’t think was possible. Because she’s smiling at him, and he can see her beautiful, slightly-crooked teeth, and the dimples in her cheeks, and those lips that were pleading him for _more_ just a few minutes ago.

So he uses those hands that are in her hair to pull her closer and kiss her, and hold her, and feel her body against him again. He could kiss her a million times and it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his constant want for it.

She kisses back for a moment, before awkwardly laughing and pulling away, brushing it off as she pours conditioner into her hands and lathers it into her hair. He forces a laugh with her, hoping he’s just imagining the hesitance she had kissing him back. The _last_ thing he wants to do is make her uncomfortable, but he didn’t think it would be a big deal just to _kiss_ her after what they just did.

But she’s smiling slightly as they condition each other’s hair, so he’s pretty sure he must have just read it wrong. He’s, like, eighty-five percent sure, at least, but it’s hard to ever _really_ know with MJ.  

“You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would,” she tells him suddenly, giving a raised eyebrow. “Especially since you actually _came_ the other day just _watching_ me. I was convinced you’d only last about ten seconds once you were inside me, and I’d have to miserably do the rest myself.”

“The only reason why I _didn’t_ do that is because of...you know, what we did twenty minutes ago,” he gulps and laughs, trying to act like it’s not a big deal—even though it is.

“We actually just had _sex,_ and you _still_ can’t say the word ‘handjob,’” she laughs, shaking her head as she rubs the bar of soap against her skin. “I can’t stand you, Parker.”

He just smiles then and snatches the bar of soap from her, turning away so she can’t get it.

“Peter!” she laughs, reaching over his shoulders to try and grab it from him. Her hands are on his arms, and she’s laughing, and _he’s_ laughing, and he’s _so_ glad that they can still joke around and mess with each other like this. Like they did _before_ they saw each other naked and made each other orgasm.

Finally she gets it back and nudges his shoulder with a smile, rubbing the suds against her arms, her chest, her neck.

“How do you feel knowing you aren’t a virgin anymore, anyway?” she asks, moving back under the stream of water to rinse her hair out and her skin off.

“I don’t really...feel that different, I guess,” he shrugs, lying straight through his teeth. There’s no way he can tell the truth and say, _“yeah, I do feel different, because I just shared the most intimate moment of my life with the girl I’m in love with. I’m the happiest person alive right now.”_

“See? Wasn’t all that scary, huh?” she tells him, lightly nudging him in the ribs. She’s carefree, absent-minded, lighthearted, while he’s overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings and worry.

“No,” he forces a laugh and nods, only hoping that she doesn’t catch on to his blatant lie. The _last_ thing he wants is for her to find out that all of this was a _much_ bigger deal to him than what he played it off as, because then it would be weird. It would _all_ be weird, and _all_ because of him. “It...it really wasn’t.”

“Told you it’s not as big of a thing as you thought it would be,” she smiles with a raised eyebrow, and that _alone_ bothers him. It bothers him because it _was_ a big deal to him, and it so obviously wasn’t to her. And it bothers him because his first time was with someone he loves, and it was beautiful, and it was life-changing, and it obviously meant _nothing_ to her. And that _really_ hurts.

Peter quickly finishes his shower then, not exactly wanting to deal with all of this right now. He’s upset, and to see her acting like this is making it _much_ harder for him to deal with.

He didn’t even get to _enjoy_ it fully though, because MJ’s proclamation of how _none of it really matters_ came almost instantly after they were finished.

Once he gets out, he pulls a towel around his waist and uses another to quickly rub the excess water from his hair. MJ shuts the water off behind him and starts to say something—probably make another joke—but Peter pretends like he didn’t hear her as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. He can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore when it’s not. And he needs a few minutes alone to think things over, and compose himself, and _breathe._

He looks at himself in the mirror, anxiously pushing his hair back.

He just had _sex._ Sex with MJ, at that, which is something he would have _laughed_ at someone a week ago for if they had told him this would happen. And the same with being in love with her, too.

The truth is, she’s not at all who he thought she was. He was stupid, and blind, and he never gave her the chance to show her _real_ self to him before he judged her for rudely inviting herself over, or making those snarky comments towards him, or having that stupid handshake with Ned that he got jealous of. And yeah, she doesn’t show the real side of herself easily, but she’s trusted him with it, and showed it to him, and he’s fallen in love with it. _All_ of it. And that’s something Ned saw in him, and Kyra saw in him, but still something he didn’t even see in _himself_ until today at the wedding, dancing with her.

“Uhh, you having a post-deflowering crisis right now or something?” MJ asks outside the door, knocking lightly. “I’ve heard that’s common.”

“I’m fine,” he laughs, trying to sound as normal and unbothered as possible. “Just trying to scrub the disgusting taste of your mouth out of mine with my toothbrush.”

“Shut up, Peter,” he hears her muffled laughter through the door, as he _actually_ brushes his teeth now for proof he wasn’t lying. Even though he was. “I bet my mouth wasn’t so disgusting when it was wrapped around your boner though, was it?”

He takes in a sharp breath then, before spitting his toothpaste into the sink. He wipes his mouth off and turns and opens the door, and MJ’s standing there in her bra and underwear, leaning against the doorway.

“I’m ignoring that comment,” he gulps discreetly and pushes past her with a laugh, still having a deathgrip on his towel. He knows he shouldn’t be so shy about that now that they’ve seen each other fully naked, but he still is anyway.

He pulls his boxers on under his towel and then pulls the damp towel off, hanging it up to dry on the rack. She’s laying on the bed now, her head propped on her palm, watching him.

“Stop watching me get dressed,” he gulps, tossing a shirt at her from his suitcase.

“Hmm,” she touches her finger to her chin, pretending to be deep in thought, “I’d rather not.”

“I hate you,” he laughs, shaking his head as he pulls on a shirt, then crouches down to dig around his suitcase for some shorts. He can see MJ inching closer to him from the corner of his eye, before she reaches over and slowly runs her hand through his wet hair, tugging at it slightly. She’s at the edge of the bed, looking down at him and biting her lip.

“Whoa, wait,” he backs up slightly, making her hand fall to her side. “You aren’t trying to-”

“-When am I _not_ trying to?” she interrupts, spreading her legs slightly in front of him.

“You already want...more? _Again?”_ he asks, gulping as he reaches up to fix the hair she just messed up.

“Don’t you? I could see you sporting that semi through your towel,” she shrugs, running her hands over her thighs, catching his eye.

He looks at her, in her eyes, before looking down to where she’s moving her hands slowly across her wet skin. And now he’s _really_ considering it.

And then his phone buzzes behind him, still in the pocket of his dress pants. The dress pants that MJ pulled off of him, the pants that are on the floor now.

“God,” MJ groans, falling back on the bed at the ruined moment. “Let me guess—Ned? So you can talk about being devirginized by The Amazing MJ?”

“Actually, it’s May sending flight information so _you_ can get out of here,” he laughs, opening the text. There’s three of them from her, and two missed calls. “I’m gonna call her back.”

So he calls her, and of course she asks _“is everything okay? You didn’t answer your phone.”_ And he has to come up with a lie that they went for a quick dip (not technically a lie) and he had left his phone. She believes it, and then continues to tell him their flight information.

“The one I’m looking at is at six a.m. and it’s...very expensive since it’s so short notice,” she explains, her voice soft, still apparent she’s worried about him. “Are you sure you don’t want to get a hotel and stay somewhere else until your flight Sunday?”

“Well,” he starts, ready to give her all of the reasons why that’s a bad idea and they should come home now. But he can’t think of any. And he sees MJ mouthing _“what is she saying?”_ And while he’s looking at her, he’s thinking about all of the _amazing_ things that have happened on this trip. The experiences, which included feeling like a rich person for a week, and hiking, and going to the most amazing spa probably ever. He got to experience his first love, and got to pretend to be MJ’s boyfriend to be even _closer_ to her, and he had sex. Which is the _last_ thing he thought would happen on this trip, really, but it did. And he got to swim in the crystal clear ocean, and drink more alcohol than he’s ever had in his life, and sing karaoke onstage with MJ. Coming here was one of the best decisions he’s ever made, and if he can extend it as long as possible, he will.

While he looks at her, he thinks _this is it. We’re gonna go back home and slip back into the same routine like Kyra said, and I'll only see her somedays after class and not at all in the summer, and I’ll eventually forget what it was like to be in love with her. And we won’t kiss anymore, and we won’t really talk anymore, and we won’t touch anymore._ And all of that _terrifies_ him.

He wishes he and MJ could stay here forever and never go back to reality. Just _without_ her family being here.

“Hey, May, give me a sec, okay?” Peter talks into the phone, before pressing it against his shoulder to shield his voice from the microphone.

Then he turns to MJ, and she’s waiting to hear from him what’s going on.

“What do you think about...about us staying somewhere else tomorrow instead of getting a plane? It’d be a lot cheaper, and we could actually stay in Hawaii and finally _enjoy_ it before school starts again,” he laughs nervously, not sure how she’ll take it. “If you’d rather go home though and leave _all_ of this behind, I’d understand. I just wanted to give you options, you know? And-”

“-That...sounds goods, actually,” she nods, looking surprised by his suggestion. “I guess we were so caught up in just getting _out,_ we didn’t think about how nice it would be to just get away from _here._ A day on the beach _without_ my family does sound really nice, so...I’m up for it if you are.”

He smiles and brings the phone back to his mouth, standing up now and walking around to distract himself. He doesn’t want to show her just _how_ happy that makes him.

“May? Yeah, I...I think we’re just gonna stay. Do you mind getting us a hotel for tomorrow night?”

“Wait, Peter,” MJ tells him, interrupting he an May’s conversation. He tells May to hold on, before he puts the phone against his shoulder again. “We technically don’t need another hotel. We have a red eye flight that leaves out at half past eleven tomorrow night.”

“I thought we were staying until Sunday?” he asks, confused.

“No, we aren’t getting _back_ until Sunday,” she tells him, shrugging. “I made mom pick a time where we _wouldn’t_ get back late the day before we go back to school. I guess we could stay here tonight with the doors locked, and just get up super early tomorrow and leave so we don’t have to see anyone.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, before getting May back on the phone and explaining all of this to her. Once he’s done, he sets his phone down on the nightstand.

“Okay, so...I guess we could just find stuff to do tomorrow until our flight leaves, huh?” he asks, and she nods.

“I’m sure we can find _something_ to do,” she shrugs, putting her hand on his thigh and squeezing.

“Jesus, MJ,” he gulps and laughs, sliding over further so her hand drops.

Of course he _wants_ to do it again—forever and ever, actually, but he doesn’t think it’s the best idea. Or a good idea at all, because after the first time, and after being constantly reminded about how it _doesn't_ matter to her, it’s too difficult. And his first time was with her, and it was beautiful and amazing and magical, so he’s worried that he’s falling _too_ hard when she doesn’t even care at all. So he doesn’t think he _should_ have sex with her again, because it’ll make it all harder, and he doesn’t know if he can take that. It’s already so hard now. _Too_ hard, and he can’t take it.

He doesn’t regret what happened—he _never_ will. But it’s heartbreaking to feel what he’s feeling right now and know that she doesn’t feel it at all. He can’t put himself through that again.

“Of course I got one of the only guys in the world that doesn’t have a bitch of a sex drive like I do,” she groans in frustration, before falling back on the bed.

“I…I do, I just think we should get to sleep soon,” he turns and looks at her, lying there in her underwear on the bed. He really wishes things were different. “If we want to leave before sunrise, we should get up around five. And it’s already almost midnight now.”

“Fine,” she tells him, pushing herself off the bed to brush her teeth.

Once they’re in bed—the lights turned off, their teeth brushed—Peter waits for her to pull him closer, or lay her head on his chest, or do _something_ to initiate contact. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t even _attempt_ it.

Even though she’s only two feet away from him, it feels like a hundred miles. And while she’s laying there sleeping peacefully, he’s feeling sick and like he might start crying. It all feels stupid and childish, but that doesn’t make his feelings hurt any less. Yeah, his first time having sex was _everything_ he’s ever wanted and more, but the aftermath wasn’t. Not at all.

So as he finally sleeps, he tosses and turns and is entirely restless just like the ocean surrounding them.

* * *

“It’s way too early,” MJ groans at the loud buzzing coming from Peter’s phone, pulling a pillow over her head. Although Peter doesn’t want to go back to a reality that forces him to use alarm clocks, it doesn’t bother him this time since he’s already been awake for hours _waiting_ for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to hear that annoying, deafening noise in his life _._

“We have to get up,” he tells her, pressing his feet to the cool floor and stretching. He still feels sick, and probably looks the part now, too, with the huge bags that must be under his eyes. “I would really rather not have to see your mom after what happened yesterday.”

“Yeah, me neither,” MJ groans and finally pulls herself from the bed too, sighing.

Peter flips the light on, and feels MJ glance over at him while they stuff their things into their suitcases. She can probably see all of his restlessness just looking at him, but she doesn’t say anything. He’s glad.

MJ calls the car service to come pick them up in fifteen minutes, while Peter sits down on the bed and checks his phone. He has ten _more_ texts from Ned.

First text: really?? you hope im having “fun?”

Second text: screw you peter that is not an answer to the question I asked

Third text: ok im sorry I just miss you guys and want an update really bad

Forth text: how was the wedding at least? did you guys hookup after seeing each other all nice and dressy?

Fifth text: I bet you hooked up

Sixth text: second base?

Seventh text: THIRD base?

Eighth text: ok im done now. you’re getting chewed out sunday when I see you though

Ninth text: but only AFTER i hear all the details

Tenth text: get home safely asshole

Peter just replies: “:) love you” which he _knows_ will piss Ned off, but he still doesn’t really have time to explain everything right now, nor does he _want_ to.

They both silently pack the rest of their bags, then get their things from the bathroom. Peter pulls all of their towels and rags together and leaves them in a pile for the maids, and then strips the bedsheets and pillowcases to make it all easier for them. Then he leaves a note on the nightstand saying “thank you” with a $20 bill underneath it. MJ just watches him while he does all of this.

“How thoughtful,” she gives a small smile and nudges his arm with hers, before they both look around one last time at their room.

“God, I’m gonna miss this place when I get back to my shitty dorm again,” she sighs, shaking her head. They glance over it a few more times, before MJ shuts the door and they leave—bags in hand.

It’s still mostly dark outside, but they can see the beginnings of the sunrise which are illuminating enough for them to _not_ trip and fall into the water.

The car’s there waiting with it’s lights on, and Peter and MJ are desperately trying to make it there _before_ MJ’s mom wakes and they have to face her.

“Thank god we missed them,” MJ laughs, tossing her bags into the floorboard of the car.

“Yeah, definitely,” Peter laughs, as they both start to climb in.

“Michelle?!” they both hear, and swing their heads around see where the voice was echoing from. It’s still pretty dark out, but it’s light enough for them to make out MJ’s mom standing on the dock in a robe. “Where the _hell_ do you think you’re going? We need to talk. _Especially_ about what your boyfriend did yesterday—you both _humiliated_ me! Get over here right _now!”_

“Hey, Miss Jones?” Peter yells, turning and watching her cross her arms, waiting. And then he pulls his middle finger up and flips her off, before he gets in the car and shuts the door. MJ gets in hurriedly too, and Peter quickly tells the driver to just _go_ as he sees her mom stomping towards them in the sand. She’s pissed.

“Did you just _want_ to get us killed Peter?” MJ locks her door, and then reaches over and locks Peter’s too. She’s getting closer, and the driver can’t go fast in the sand. Peter’s sweating now, as her mom _slams_ her hands on the back of the car, right as the tires finally hit gravel.

“Drive! Go!” MJ yells, both of them about to hyperventilate from fear. Peter’s scared she might _actually_ have killed them, but his shoulders relax as he turns around and sees her standing in place while she watches them leave.

“God,” MJ breathes out, gripping the seat beside her as she leans her head on the window. And then to the driver, she says: “Sorry about that. My mom’s kinda crazy.”

They have small talk for a minute after that, trying to lighten the mood. Peter’s just sitting still in his seat though, feeling like his life just flashed before his eyes.

They look on their phones to find something to do in Kihei, which is around the area where their flight is tonight. Since it’s only about half past six and nothing’s open yet, they decide to park in some random coffee shop’s parking lot and walk down to the beach.

“I know this all sucks for you, but here you go,” MJ leans in between the seats of the car, handing the driver two twenties. “Go do whatever—I’ll call you when we need to be driven to the airport, okay? Sorry again about all of this.”

He tells her thank you and gets out of the car, before Peter gives her a look.

“What? Kyra always gives me a ton of money when I see her,” MJ shrugs, before reaching down and pulling her shirt off. And she’s not even wearing a bra now.

Peter quickly turns away, not expecting that at _all._ Although he’s trying to clear his mind, the image of her bare chest keeps making a very vivid appearance in his head. And then that’s followed by his memory of her on top of him, moaning and crying out his name while she rode him. He keeps trying to fight the mental image, but it’s not working very well.

“Oh my God, Peter, you saw this same chest _yesterday,”_ she groans, pulling her bikini from her bag and tying on her top. “Along with _everything_ else for that matter.”

“I’m just trying to give you privacy,” he breathes out unevenly, staring out the window at the palm trees, the ocean. She must notice his shallow breath, because she sets her hand on his arm and runs her fingers along it gently.

“If I wanted privacy, I would have told you,” she replies, leaning forward to laugh lowly against his ear. He shivers and feels chill bumps form on his skin, as she presses her hot mouth against his jaw, then his neck, and she’s pushing her hand up his shorts.

And he _wants_ it. He wants it, and her, and this, _bad._ But even though she’s touching him, and making him feel good, he knows he’ll regret it and feel awful after. He doesn’t know if he can deal with _another_ wave of pain when he’s still trying to deal with the first.

“No,” he breathes out, pushing her hand away. “Not now. We’re in public, in a car, and in a coffee shop _parking_ lot, MJ.”

“So what? It’s six thirty a.m.—no one’s here,” she shrugs, but doesn’t make another move yet. “Besides, the danger of being caught in the act sort of gets me going.”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” he laughs and gulps, shaking his head. “There’s no way.”

“God, Peter,” she laughs in frustration, turning to look at him. “You know Ned would have screwed me twenty times by now if he had come here instead, right? And I can only get _once_ out of you. I’m still surprised I got that.”

He sees the sides of her mouth quirk up in a smile, and so does his, and they both burst out laughing.

“He really would have,” Peter laughs, shaking his head at the thought. “God, I miss him.”

“Yeah, I miss that loser too,” MJ laughs and pulls her shorts and underwear off, before slipping on the bottom half of her bikini. “So are you gonna put on your trunks or…?”

“Can you turn away or something?” he huffs, blushing.

“You do realize you were _inside_ of me last night, right? Am I in the twilight zone or something?” she narrows her eyes, confused by his confliction.

“Please, MJ?” he sighs, nervously gripping the trunks in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” she turns away and looks out the window, so he hurriedly slips his shorts and boxers off, before pulling on his trunks

“Okay, I’m done,” he tells her, before grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling them off. He can feel MJ watching as he does, biting her lip and glancing hungrily over his body. He pretends not to notice as he steps out of the car.

She’s making this all _so_ difficult.

They walk along the beach for about an hour, feeling the breeze and watching the end phases of the sunrise. It’s nice and windy, and the morning weather’s cool against their skin. It would be perfect if their hands were clasped together, but he’s too scared to make the move himself, so he doesn’t. And she probably doesn’t even _want_ that, so neither does she.

They eventually find a nice spot on the sand and sit down, just watching the waves crash against their feet in a soothing rhythm.

He wishes he had the courage to tell her his feelings, but he’s not sure he ever will. This is different than just telling your crush you like them; this is love, and it hurts, and it could ruin not only an important relationship for him, but also ruin the only relationship MJ even has. And it’s likely that if she stopped talking to Peter, she’d stop talking to Ned, too. So telling her how he feels would be the most inconsiderate thing he could do to her right now, and he doesn’t want to be _another_ person she can’t talk to, or lean on, or trust. He can’t justify doing that to her just for _his_ personal, selfish reasons.

“So have you talked to Ned at all on this trip?” MJ asks, laying down on the sand, looking up at him and shielding her eyes with her hand. “Besides the picture, of course. Did he reply to that, by the way?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter laughs, nodding and laying down beside her. “He was pretty thrilled about it. He actually, um, told me before we came that he thought we were gonna hookup. Or...whatever.”

“Well he wasn’t wrong,” MJ laughs and shrugs, turning to look at him. “He was pretty spot on, actually. Did you...tell him about what happened?”

“No,” he shakes his head quickly, giving a nervous laugh. “No, I haven’t. But...would it be a big deal if I had?”

“I’d just prefer if we _didn’t_ tell anyone about it,” she shrugs, looking away from him and closing her eyes. “It’s just...nothing _,_ you know? And I know it would make things weird within the friend group, and I’d just rather not have to deal with that right now. Or, you know, ever.”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, feeling his stomach drop. He feels like he could throw up, but he swallows it down. “Yeah, I agree. It’s...it’s nothing at all.”

They lay there for a while and don’t speak much, just enjoying their surroundings. Or MJ is, at least, while Peter lays there and wishes he hadn’t been so _stupid_ to think staying an extra day with her would make him feel better. He went into this knowing MJ doesn’t get close to people, doesn’t trust people, and _definitely_ doesn’t fall in love. And yet _he_ still stupidly did.

“It’s getting pretty hot out here,” MJ sits up eventually, and Peter has no idea how long it’s been since they stopped talking. “Wanna do something?”

“Like what?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, but stands up and pushes the sand off of herself with her hands, before extending the same hand out to help him up. “We’ll figure it out.”

And they do. They walk back down the beach to find the car, and they both slip on a shirt and shorts, before deciding to go to the coffee shop and get iced coffees. MJ insists on paying since Kyra apparently gave her money for that _exact_ reason, and they sit on some stools along a long window that overlooks the ocean. He’s not sure he could _ever_ get tired of looking at how beautiful it all is here.

“Is it good?” she asks, looking at him. He turns and looks at her too, instantly breathless when he sees the loose curls around face, and the smile small on the corner of her lips as she sips the coffee through it’s straw.

He’s not only in love with her, but everything she does, too.

“Yeah, it is,” he nods, looking away from her and taking a drink himself. “Thanks for getting it.”

“It _better_ be good for six freaking dollars,” she laughs and sighs, and then they’re in silence again.

He hates being this way: silent, upset, pining. He wants to _enjoy_ the last day of his spring break in Hawaii, not sulk through all of it.

“Hey, do you...wanna maybe do something?” Peter asks, finally swallowing back his self pity and deciding to enjoy it all before it’s gone.

“Aren’t we doing something now?” She laughs, giving her Signature MJ Reaction by narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I just mean we should...I don’t know, do something memorable,” he shrugs, looking out the window again. “Something that will really make us remember all of this exactly the way it was.”

“Like get it on in a coffee shop bathroom?” she raises an eyebrow and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” he breathes out a laugh, gulping. “Just something fun, you know?”

“Actually, I’ve heard they have great street vendors here that I’ve always wanted to try, and it’s kinda close to lunch time now,” MJ tells him, swirling her stool around like a five year old. “Let’s sit here in the air conditioner for a while, and then go do that. And then we could go to some local shops and stuff if you wanted.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” he nods, smiling at her as she looks out the window. Then she turns and glances at him, and he clears his throat and looks away. “I, um, have some extra money since I didn’t spend any yet on this trip. I’d love to get souvenirs and stuff.”

“Same here,” she nods and sighs, pushing her hair back and yawning, before laying her head on his shoulder. He’s stiff at first, before he finally relaxes, gulps, and leans his cheek on top of her hair.

They stay there for another half hour, before deciding that they’re too hungry to wait any longer. So they get up from their seats, throw away their empty coffee cups, and head out.

They walk through countless amounts of vendors, and right now, with how hungry he is, they _all_ look appetizing. They end up stopping at one that had caught their eye, and order some Kalua Pig and Poke. Peter isn’t quite sure what it is, but he trust MJ’s judgement and eats it, and he’s instantly glad he did. It’s amazing, and he savors _every bite_ in full as they sit on a bench and watch passerbyers.

After enjoying their lunch, they decide to finally get up and walk around, searching for shops. Peter’s finally smiling and laughing, and they’re genuinely having a good time as they move from shop-to-shop, buying small knick knacks from all of them. Peter’s wracked up a shirt, a hat, a necklace, and an oversized Hawaiian shirt that he’ll _never_ wear but MJ convinced him to buy anyway.

They both got mugs with their names on them too, and they both got a pair of sunglasses. By the time they leave the last shop on the entire block that they’ve visited, the sun is already starting to set. The first day he’s gotten to spend with _just her_ is going _way_ too fast for his taste.

“Let’s go somewhere nice for dinner,” MJ suggests, shrugging her shoulders with a smile. “Just to celebrate our last night before we go back, you know? What about that place we saw on the beach earlier?”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds awesome.”

So they do. And they both decide to go back to the car and grab some clothes and nice shoes from their bags, before going into their separate coffee shop bathrooms to get dressed. It’s probably a tacky thing to do, but Peter still takes his time fixing his hair, and practicing his _I’m-not-in-love-with-you_ smile, and he takes a few minutes to compose himself, and tell himself it’s _not_ a date. None of this has been a date, and he’s desperately trying to get that through his head.

He walks out and sits down, waiting for her to be done. It’s only five minutes later when she walks out in a floral dress that fits her perfectly, and she’s looking around for Peter before her eyes land on him. She laughs and walks forward, and his heart is pounding, and his palms are sweating, and his mouth is dry. She never fails to leave him speechless and standing there looking like an idiot.

“Cute, huh? I guess I should be thanking Mom for this. We were supposed to have a dinner with the whole family tonight when she wanted me to wear this, but oh well,” she shrugs, twirling around in her dress, making it flow effortlessly in the air. “Not exactly my style, but hey, we’re on vacation. And what happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii, right?”

“You look so pretty,” he tells her, standing up as she approaches.

“Don’t get sappy on me, Parker,” she rolls her eyes, laughing. “It’s seriously gross.”

“I’m not getting _sappy,_ I’m just telling the truth,” he shrugs, still smiling at her.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go eat,” she nudges him, and they walk out of the coffee shop and onto the now-busy street. It’s dark all around them save for the street lights, as they walk down the sidewalk to the restaurant they were talking about. It’s pretty busy so they have to wait for about an hour, but it’s _definitely_ worth it.

“Dinner for two, correct?” a waiter asks, leading them to their seats. MJ confirms it, as they walk through the beautiful outdoor restaurant that overlooks the ocean.

They get seated at one of the ‘couples’ tables, which included lit candles in between them, and a bottle of wine being chilled in an ice bucket.

“A beautiful evening for a beautiful couple,” the waiter smiles as they sit down, handing them their menus. “Here we have a sparkling rosé _perfect_ for a romantic, candlelit dinner.”

“Actually, we-” Peter starts, about to tell him _no, sorry, we aren’t twenty-one yet._

“That sounds amazing,” MJ interrupts and kicks him under the table, smiling sweetly at the waiter. She has her hands clasped together under her chin, smiling charmingly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” the waiter bows slightly, before saying, “I’ll be back soon to take your order.”

“Ooh, how romantic,” she laughs and grabs the bottle, pouring herself a full glass. Then she offers it to Peter, and he just sighs and takes it. With all of the bad thoughts and MJ’s comments in his head, it would be nice to be able to just drink and not think about it anymore.

They both sift through their menus, and Peter decides to go for the _cheapest_ meal he could find (breaded, four cheese macaroni and cheese), while MJ goes for the pasta primavera. They’re both casually drinking while they wait for their food, and Peter’s starting to feel that familiar light, buzzy feeling in his head. He always forgets how nice it is.

“Even when we’re _not_ around my family we’re still having to pretend we’re together,” she laughs, looking at Peter across the table, taking a sip from her glass. “Kinda funny, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s...it’s really funny,” he nods and laughs, tearing his eyes from hers and glancing around the room. It’s even hard to just _look_ at her now, and he refuses to think in hypotheticals about what it _would_ be like if this was a real date.

They get their food around the half hour mark, and Peter’s just thankful to finally have a valid excuse to not be talking to her. He’s completely torn on whether he should close himself off and try not to get hurt, or forget all of the bad things and just _enjoy_ his last real day with her. But it’s hard to forget.

“You know, I actually thought I was imagining you ignoring me for a while because you were in such a good mood earlier when we were shopping,” she sighs, setting her fork down on her plate. “Seriously, Parker, what the hell?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m not ignoring you,” he shakes his head, taking another gulp of his drink, feeling it warm in his stomach.

She hesitates for a second, before laughing and shaking her head. “Yeah? Then why can’t you even _look_ at me right now, huh?”

He takes in a breath and finally turns to look at her, gulping. “Sorry, I just...I don’t know. I was just thinking about how I sort of don’t want to have to go back home to reality.”

It’s not a _full_ lie this time, at least.

“Yeah,” she nods and looks down at the table, her shoulders relaxing. “Me neither. I know my family’s awful and everything, but...it was nice to get away from the stress of school for a while I guess.”

“I just keep thinking about that bungalow, and that beach, and this whole _week,_ really,” he sighs, before pushing his finished plate to the middle of the table. “It’s annoying to be reminiscing about something that isn’t even fully over yet.”

“Agreed,” she sighs, grabbing the bottle of rosé and filling her empty glass up. Then he holds his glass out to her, and she grins before filling his too.

“A toast to our last real night of spring break,” MJ holds her glass up, and Peter smiles as he clinks his with hers. Then they both take a drink.

“I’m so glad I came on this trip,” Peter gulps and looks at her, setting his glass down. Even though he _knows_ he’s only saying this because he’s tipsy and he’ll probably regret it later, it still feels right in the moment. “I know I gave you a hard time about it at first and everything, but I really had fun.”

“Not to be disgustingly gross, but...I guess I don’t hate you _as_ much anymore,” she smiles at him, and he shakes his head and laughs, nudging her leg with his under the table. “Only because you saved my life by coming, though. Not because I like your annoying ass personality or anything.”

“Sure, MJ, keep telling yourself that,” he laughs, and she rolls her eyes and takes another drink.

“Thanks though,” she forces out in a low mutter, looking down at the table and picking at a napkin. “Not only for coming here, but also for...I don’t know. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before. And there’s _definitely_ no one that’s ever pushed my mom into the pacific before, either.”

They both laugh, before she awkwardly clears her throat and says: “It was nice or whatever. So thanks.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” he laughs and feels a lump in his throat, tracing his finger along the rim of his glass nervously. “I was just doing what everyone around _should_ have been doing.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t,” she replies quietly, and he looks up at her. _“You_ did, though.”

They look at each other, and the light from the candle is illuminating her face, and she has that small smile she always gets when she’s drinking. The smile that he’s seen countless times this trip.

“Which _means,”_ she laughs, sitting back and completely ruining the moment like she always does. “You should accept my thank you’s. And that’s why I’m letting you pick out anything you want from the dessert menu. It’s on me.”

He grins and grabs the menu, looking at all of the options diligently before deciding on a chocolate mousse cake—which he ends up sharing with her.

“That was amazing,” Peter sighs, rubbing his full stomach as they walk out of the restaurant and onto the street. “Thanks, MJ.”

“You can’t thank me for something that I bought to thank _you,”_ she laughs, shaking her head. “Weirdo.”

“I can because I just did,” he replies and bumps her elbow, feeling like he’s walking on clouds with the current buzz he has. “Is it hot to you? I’m sweating.”

“Pretty sure that’s the rosé talking,” MJ looks at him and laughs, before stopping in her tracks with a sudden epiphany.

“What?” he stops too, turning around now to look at her. Tourists brush past them, but MJ just smiles, saying, “I have a perfect solution.”

Then she pulls him along with her through the crowds, and his head is buzzing and he’s smiling as he looks down at their intertwined hands.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks, looking up and seeing their car ahead of them.

“We’re taking a dip in that beautiful, glistening ocean in front of us,” MJ turns and laughs, walking backwards in front of him. And then she pulls the string that’s wrapped around her neck, and lets her dress fall to reveal her bikini she had been wearing underneath. “I realized that after this whole week, we never even went night swimming. Not once. And we still have two hours before we need to be at the airport, so this is the perfect time. Now put on your trunks.”

The thought of the cool ocean waves washing over his hot, sweaty skin right now sounds _heavenly,_ so he gets MJ to guard the car while he quickly takes his shirt off and pulls on his swimming trunks.

They walk down the beach past the lights, past all of the people who _also_ had the same idea they did, until they finally reach a spot that’s decently secluded. They can still hear people laughing in the distance, but it’s mostly drowned out by the crashing waves against the shore.

“Last one in gets the middle seat on the plane!” she yells at Peter, before running down the sand and splashing into the water.

“That’s literally not fair!” he yells, but he just huffs and smiles, knowing she can’t hear him. He would have given the window seat to her anyway, but still.

He isn’t as hasty getting into the water as MJ was. His eyes haven’t adjusted yet so it’s still _extremely_ dark out, and the water is cold against his feet, and there’s _something_ about getting into the ocean when you can’t see what’s below you that gives him the chills.

“Peter, come on!” MJ laughs and yanks his arm, pulling him in.

“Maybe swimming while drunk isn’t the best idea. What if...what if there’s, like, sharks? I know Jaws is old, but that movie still _really_ freaked me out,” he gulps, squinting his eyes to try and see better.

“I personally think that’d be a pretty cool way to die though,” she says beside him, before diving into the water. He gulps and stands there, trying to relax, trying to look for MJ in the water. But the sky is cloudy so there’s no light from that, and the only source of illumination they _do_ have is from the city—which is decently far away now.

He can’t even hear MJ resurface because of the loud, rolling waves behind him, and he can’t see her, or feel her close.

“MJ?” he asks out, feeling around the water for her. “MJ, come on.”

But he still doesn’t hear her, or see her, even when he spins in a three hundred and sixty degree circle around him. And now he’s waist deep, and he tries not to panic, because _what if she hit her head?_ She’s drunk and she can’t see, and this was all an _awful_ idea.

 _“Duuuuuun dun, duuuuuun dun dun,”_ he hears, feeling MJ’s hands suddenly on his back as she dramatically hums the Jaws theme song behind him.

“You literally aren’t funny at all,” Peter turns and laughs, splashing her as he takes in a long sigh of relief.

But she just keeps going, humming it louder. _“Duuuuuun dun.”_

“Will you stop?” he laughs again, seeing the outline of her in front of him now.

“Don’t be such a baby, Parker,” she’s laughs, and keeps on going with that dumb, anxiety-inducing song.  He groans and reaches out to push her shoulder teasingly, annoyed that he’s even laughing at her stupid joke at this point.

“You think you can just push me, huh?” MJ scoffs with a laugh, before she reaches up and pushes him back. He can’t see it, but he can imagine the smug, playful smile she’s sporting right now too. “How do you like that?”

“Okay, but _you,”_ he pushes again, grinning, “deserved it. _I_ did not.”

“You always deserve to be pushed, Peter,” she replies, using more force now.

It’s too _much_ force, actually, because he feels himself losing balance and toppling backwards. And then, as he falls underwater, the last thing he hears is, _“Oh shit!”_

But instead of helping him up, he resurfaces to learn that MJ is swimming away and laughing.

“You’re such a jerk!” he yells after her with a frustrated laugh, and a stupid smile he can’t wipe off his face. She just keeps swimming, _knowing_ he’ll probably dunk her again if he catches her. Which is something she _hates._

She actually gets a pretty good distance away, but Peter wasn’t far enough behind her for her to _fully_ get away from him. And once a wave slows her down, Peter’s able to grab her foot and pull her back towards him.

She’s laughing and trying to kick him, but he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her writhing, fighting body against him.

“Don’t dunk me again Peter, seriously,” she breathes out, both of them desperately trying to catch their breaths. “I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he shrugs, before dunking her under the water. He pulls her back up almost instantly because he knows she’s already out of breath, and her arm wraps around his neck as she uses him to pull herself up.

“Seriously, Peter, I can’t stand you,” she gasps and groans, but he can tell she’s laughing too, so he knows she isn’t bothered _too_ bad. And then she wraps her other arm around his neck to try and steady herself, try and catch her breath.

“I bet,” he laughs, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he tries to even his breathing out. He feels like he just ran a mile.

The water’s only up to their shoulders, but MJ’s feet are on top of his, and their faces are close, and their bodies are pressed together. He can feel her heavy breath close to his own, and he feels her fingers start to scratch lightly against the back of his neck.

He reaches up and pushes the wet hair from her face, feels her breath on his arm, and suddenly nothing is very funny anymore.

He presses his forehead to hers and squeezes his eyes shut, using his hands to press against the cool skin of her back. She slowly pushes herself up slightly and locks her legs around his waist, and he can feel his breath getting heavy again even though he’s been working to even it out. They aren’t talking or making a sound, and he knows he can’t hold himself back any longer.

So he finally lets himself kiss her. She parts her lips instantly when he does, like she was waiting for it, _hoping_ for it. Her arms on his shoulders as she pulls him closer, and he presses his fingers against her hips desperately.

“This position remind you of anything?” she laughs against him, tilting her head to kiss him harder. “Deja Vu much?”

And then he sighs. Does she _always_ have to ruin the moment?

“We can’t do this,” he pulls his lips from hers, reaching down to unlock her legs from around his waist. Then he sets her down, and starts swimming back to shore.

“And why not?” she huffs in annoyance swimming behind him. She grabs his shoulder and stops him, and he stands and looks at her.

“We don’t have protection. And we’re in the _ocean,_ MJ,” he shrugs, throwing his hands in the air like he can’t believe she even had to _ask._ “We should be smart about this, but you just...you just come onto me any chance you get.”

“So?” she laughs, finding it all amusing.

 _“So,”_ he replies, rolling his eyes. “You’re making this hard. Really hard.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of foreplay?” she asks, crossing her arms with a proud smirk.

“Dear God,” he groans, turning back to swim to shore again.

“Seriously, Peter?” she follows again, both of them now able to walk. “You always do this. You’re into it, you want it, and then you leave me all wet and turned on. _Physically_ wet,” she raises her arms, watching the water splash off of them. “And...well, physically wet again.”

“We should get going,” he gulps, pushing his hair back as he finally touches his foot to the dry sand. He knew _again_ that he shouldn’t drink when he’s with her, but he went ahead and did it anyway. And now she’s talking about being wet for him, and he can’t think straight on _top_ of the intoxication aspect of not being able to think straight. “We need to be at the airport in an hour and we don’t even know where it is, or where the driver is, and you left your phone in the car which is _another_ half hour walk away.”

“I knew you were boring and everything, but I _seriously_ underestimated the exceptionally high level of it,” she crosses her arms, but walks anyway. She keeps her distance from him, but still—at least she didn’t decide to give him a panic attack by staying and missing the flight.

They don’t talk the rest of the way to the car, or even when they _get_ to it and have to sit in it alone while they wait for their driver to come. They don’t talk while they angrily dry off, or when they angrily pulls on dry clothes, or when the driver finally comes and MJ angrily tells him their location.

Peter isn’t angry at _her,_ though—he’s angry at himself.

“Here’s your ticket,” MJ tells him, shoving it against his chest as they enter the cold, busier-than-what-it-should-be-at-eleven-pm airport. “We have a connecting flight in Phoenix.”

He wants to say something, but he knows it would just probably annoy her even more, so he doesn’t. And he feels bad now.

They check in, go through bag check, get their boarding passes, go through security, and then wait at the departure gate. MJ’s sprawled over two chairs reading a book with one headphone in, and she doesn’t even _glance_ at Peter when he gets up to grab them both an (expensive) iced coffee.

He brings back two in his hands, sits by MJ, and puts one in front of her face to block the view of her book. She glances up at him in annoyance, and he just gives a small, slightly-scared smile. She keeps this look up for what feels like _eternity,_ before she eventually just sighs and sits up, grabbing it from his hand.

“I hope you don’t think this is worthy consolation,” she tells him, clutching it against her chest and dipping down to take a long, relieved sip. “I just love coffee more than my hatred for you. Surprising, I know.”

He just smiles happily as she puts her book down, and they talk about how much this “long-ass flight is going to suck.” (MJ’s words.)

MJ of course gets the window seat, and Peter _again_ can’t fall asleep. He complained about the plane ride, but he’s still glad MJ’s here beside him, because he knows that soon she’ll be getting in a cab and going home. He doesn’t even want to think about that right now.

They’re waiting for around an hour or so in Phoenix for their next flight, so Peter _attempts_ sleep, but never achieves it. But he doesn’t mind that much though, because MJ lays her head on his chest and sighs sleepily against him while she drifts off herself.

“Oh sorry, got some drool on your shirt,” she laughs and sits up, wiping it away with her palm, then wiping _that_ on her pant leg. “Time to go yet?”

It wasn’t, but it was only ten minutes later when they called for boarding.

So they got back on another plane, and even though MJ got the window seat again, she chose to lay her head on his chest instead. His feelings about that felt stupid when he _really_ thought about it, but it still made him inexplicably happy anyway.

MJ woke about three hours into _that_ flight, disoriented and her hair messy, before they decided to finish off her crossword puzzle book. They did that for a while, and then they watched down below them at the passing cities, and then they watched a movie. It was pretty boring for the most part, but MJ’s arm was pressed against his, so he was content.

They finally land, and Peter’s so tired from not sleeping at _all,_ that he orders another coffee while MJ calls for a cab.

“The fact that we just got on a ten and a half hour flight at eleven p.m. and then got _back_ to New York at _five_ a.m _._ is seriously messing with my head.” MJ sighs, sliding her phone into her back pocket as she approaches Peter. “Time zones are weird.”

They load all of their bags into the cab, and Peter looks around at the city. _His_ city. He already misses Hawaii, because he gets a whiff of that _awful_ smell that New York is famous for, and there’s trash everywhere, and there’s honking and yelling even at five a.m.

“You good?” MJ asks, sitting back in her seat as they drive.

“Yeah, the sleep deprivation is just really killing me,” he yawns, leaning back and looking out the window.

“I can tell with those huge bags under your eyes,” she laughs, nudging him.

“Hey!” he turns and looks at her, smiling now too.

“Joking, joking,” she grins, putting her hands up. “Sort of.”

They both look out their windows then and watch the sun starting to rise, although it’s a lot harder to tell here since there’s already so many lights everywhere, and the sky is grey with clouds. But it’s nice, and it’s home.

“Here you are,” MJ tells Peter as the cab stops in front of his apartment building. "Home sweet home."

He knows he’s seen her every single minute almost for the past week, but he still somehow doesn’t want to leave her.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow probably,” she tells him through the rolled down window, watching as he throws his duffel over his shoulder. “Unless I just decide to drop out and move to Hawaii.”

“Please tell me if you do because I’m coming too,” he laughs in exhaustion, smiling back at her. She’s smiling at him too.

“Thanks again, Peter,” she nods, and he gives a slight, sad smile. He _knows_ it’s not a huge, dramatic goodbye and he’s going to see her _tomorrow_ instead of months from now, but it still sort of feels that way.

“Yeah, no problem,” he nods back, scratching his nails into his palm as he takes in a breath. And then without another word, she rolls the window up and the cab starts moving. He watches her leave, and his hearts racing, and he _knows_ this isn’t supposed to be how it all ends. It can’t be.

“Wait!” he yells at the cab, dropping his bags and flailing his arms dramatically in the air. The cab slams on its breaks and makes a loud, halting screech, before MJ opens the door and looks at him in confusion.

“Peter, what th-” MJ starts, probably about to make some annoying, snarky comment, but he cuts her off.

“Come up,” he breathes out, gulping. It’s drizzling now, and he can feel the wet raindrops against his skin. “It’s early, and I can make us more coffee, and there’s an extra bed if you want it since Ned’s not home, and I...I don’t want to be alone again.”

She doesn’t ask about what his definition of “alone _again”_ is, because they both know Ned’s always home and Peter _isn’t_ alone. But they both know he doesn’t mean it like that, and she just nods and grabs her bags, following him in.

He smells the familiar, musty smell of his apartment building, and they walk up the stairs in silence. There’s tension between them, and it’s strange because it wasn’t this strong on their trip. But it is now, and he’s scared that it’s because they’re back home and back to reality, and all of this is just fading into some weird, distant dream as they mold back into their past relationship that was based on hatred and feuding.

He doesn’t want to ever go back to that.

“Want some?” Peter asks, his throat dry as he utters out the first words since his embarrassing, lonely confession.

“Sure,” she nods, setting her bags down on the floor and sitting down at their table. They can hear the rain outside loudly pouring down now against the window.

He sets up the coffee maker and turns it on, before taking his own bags to his room and setting them down. Then he sits across from her at the table while they wait, hearing the weird, unique gurgle of his hand-me-down coffee maker May gave to him.

He and MJ both laugh lightly, awkwardly, looking down at the table. MJ is _never_ awkward, so he feels bad that he put her in this position. He’s scared that he might have accidentally guilt tripped her by saying he didn’t want to be alone, and she probably didn’t even actually _want_ to come up but she just felt bad so she did. And now he feels like panicking and telling her he’s sorry, but the coffee finishes then, so he just breathes in and stands up, filling up two mugs of plain black coffee.

“Thanks,” she smiles, grabbing it in her hands. “God, it’s cold here. I stupidly got used to Hawaiian weather.”

“Yeah, me too,” he nods, warming his own hands against the mug.

Are they _actually_ attempting small talk right now? After everything that’s happened?

“Is it okay if I sleep?” MJ asks as she finishes her coffee, rinsing the mug out in the sink. “It’s still way too early for me to actually be awake right now. Plus the weather’s making me drowsy.”

“Yeah, of course,” he gulps, forcing a smile as he stands up. “I think I’m gonna try to get some rest too.”

“Great,” she nods, standing awkwardly. Is she waiting for him?

“You can take Ned’s room if you want,” he speaks up, his hands grasping at the counter behind him. “Or the couch—I don’t care.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, seeming confused. She must have thought they were sleeping together in his bed, but he didn’t want to _assume_ that. So now it would be weird if he said anything. “Um, yeah. I’ll just take the couch—I’m used to it anyway.”

She’s stiff as she stands there, her hands clenched at her sides. Peter feels sick.

She turns and makes her way to the couch, plopping down on it and grabbing a pillow in her hands. Peter watches for a second, wondering what would happen if he invited her to his bed _now._ But he thinks better of it and shakes his head, before switching the light in the kitchen off. It’s incredibly dark now because of the storms, so he uses his hands to feel around his bedroom, before collapsing into it in exhaustion.

It’s all familiar: the smell, his pillows, his blankets. It’s comforting, but it’s not enough to lull his wired, anxious brain into sleep.

He stares at the window and sighs, watching for the casual lightning, followed by the loud, angry thunder. He can hear the rain still falling hard.

He doesn’t know long it takes before he hears his door creak open, and turns to see MJ in the doorway. She stands there for a moment and hesitates, before quietly saying: “Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” he replies, before pulling the covers back next to him for her to lay down there. His heart races as she walks forward and crawls in beside him, and he swallows thickly when she pulls his arm around her and holds it there.

He closes his eyes and breathes out, finally getting to pull her closer, and feel her against his skin again. It feels _right._

He breathes against her neck nervously, before he leans down and kisses her shoulder like he did in the shower. But this time it’s only once and he holds it there longer, just wanting to feel her near him. He hears her let out a breath, and then she hesitates again, before turning her head slightly. And they’re looking at each other, and neither can breathe again, and she reaches up to pull him down into a kiss.

It’s slow, and aching, and everything he’s ever wanted from her, as she turns her body towards his and grabs his face in her hands. His arm moves around to the other side of her, and he’s on top of her now, both of them gasping for air between each kiss. It’s dark, and their kissing is gentle and passionate, and everything is going at the exact right time, and beat, and pace.

He reaches down and pulls her top off, and then she starts tugging at his. They toss them onto the floor, as Peter presses sweet, soft kisses to her neck—their hands now clasped together on either side of them. It’s all moving at the most perfect speed, in the most perfect way, and this time he didn’t have to ask her for that.

But he suddenly gets a realization that he wishes he had just ignored for _once_. A realization that this is exactly what he’s wanted with her, and she knows that. She also knows that none of her other attempts at seducing him have worked. And now this perfect moment is being ruined by the thought that she’s doing this all on purpose to sleep with him.

“I...I can’t,” he pulls away, and gets off of her in one quick motion. Something _so_ quick, in fact, that should have made it all easier. But it was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, because he wanted it all _so_ badly to be real. “I’m sorry.”

“Peter-” she mutters out softly, reaching out for him. She looks hurt—not angry like before.

“No, I can’t,” he replies again, his voice breaking as he pulls away from her. “I just can’t. Not again.”

“Okay,” she answers, sitting up to look at him. “Okay, we don’t have to. Just lay back down and we can sleep.”

“No, MJ, you don’t _get_ it,” he stands up from the bed, clenching his jaw to fight back tears.

“What do I not get?” she asks, her voice still calm. She’s worried about him.

“It’s not just sex that I can’t do with you. I...I can’t hold your hand, or lay down with you like this, or even _look_ at you sometimes,” he breathes out, feeling a lump in his throat, feeling his eyes start to burn with tears behind them. “I’m hurting, and I’m in pain, and being around you like this—being _with_ you like this—just makes it worse. _So_ much worse.”

“Peter,” She gulps, her hand gripping at his blanket as she stares at him.

“You just...you don’t really want me,” he laughs out sadly, finally letting the tears spill over his eyes as his voice cracks and his fists grip nervously at his jeans. “Not the way I want you.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks nervously, her eyebrows furrowing as she sits up higher. It’s dark, but not dark enough to hide the fearstruck look she has on her face. She doesn’t understand at first, but she’s smart enough to put it together.

“God, MJ, don’t you know by now?” he whispers, looking at her with a shake of his head, his sweaty, nervous palms pressing into the sides of his pants. “I’m...I’m in _love_ with you.”


	10. Confessions

“What…” MJ breathes out, her voice fragile and terrified—just hoping she had heard him wrong. “What did you just say?”

They’re looking at each other now, and Peter’s trying to figure out how she’s reacting to all of this, but he can’t. And he’s scared too, because he planned on keeping this all a secret until the day he _died_ if it meant he could just be there for MJ, and help her, and show her that someone _does_ care for her. And if that meant he had to silently love her through all of it, then so be it.

But he failed. Miserably.

“I love you, MJ,” he professes again, this time in a shaky whisper. His voice is trembling, and he can feel the tears spilling down his cheeks, and he’s trying to stay brave. Because even though he’s crying and shaking through it, it’s still the most courageous thing he’s probably ever done in his life, because it’s the most he’s ever had at stake. “I...I think I have for a while now and I just didn’t realize it.”

They’re both still and wordless, and Peter’s heart is pounding, and he wishes she would just _say_ something—even if it was in anger—because _anything_ would make him feel better right now. He just can’t take the silence, or the terrifying air of uncertainty and apprehension in the room.

“Say something,” he pleads, standing still as he waits. He feels like there are hundred pound weights strapped to his ankles that are forcing him to stay in place, but he knows it’s just the paralyzing fear that’s surging through him. He can hardly even breathe. “Please, MJ. Say _anything.”_

“I don’t know _what_ to say,” she swallows, her voice low. She’s in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he utters out, his chest heavy. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I wasn’t going to, I just…I couldn’t help it. It was stupid.”

Silence again. And this time feels worse somehow, because it’s awkward and terrible and it’s everything he was petrified would happen if he told her about his feelings.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stepping forward. She flinches as he gets closer, and his heart breaks as he retreats back.

“I’m confused,” she stands up, taking in a long breath and pushing her hair back as she looks out the window. “I’m _really_ confused.”

“Look, I didn’t...I didn’t plan on getting feelings for you, okay?” he bites the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with something to say to make this all better. He isn’t sure that’s possible right now, though. “I actually went on that trip with you thinking I was going to get back and hate you _more,_ you know? But I didn’t. I fell in love with you, even though I tried not to.”

“Shut _up,_ Peter,” she breathes out, still turned around with her back facing him. But she’s looking at the floor now, shaking her head. Then she turns around, and she’s looking at him like she’s about to freak out. He knows it’s hard for her to hear that word—especially directed towards her. “Just...stop talking.”

“I can’t pretend anymore, MJ,” he presses, swallowing thickly. “I’m tired of pretending, and I’m tired of holding in my feelings, and I’m tired of acting like having sex with you didn’t mean anything to me. Or that kissing you or faking to be with you didn’t, either. Because it did— _all_ of it did. And even before I knew I was in love with you, kissing you and even _faking_ to be with you felt so _right.”_

She’s looking at him, and he sees her take in a breath.

“And I know it’s sudden, and I know I’m being selfish by telling you this, but it’s gonna kill me to hold it in anymore,” he gulps, trying to get out all the things he _imagined_ he would tell her if this moment ever happened. “It’s just that...this is the kind of love May and Uncle Ben used to have. The kind of love where they make you the happiest person alive just by seeing their face at the beginning and end of your day, and the kind of love that you thought was unrealistic until you actually experience it yourself, and the kind of love that makes everything—even the bad stuff— _good._ It’s the kind of love I’ve always wanted—always _dreamed_ about—but never really thought I’d get to experience because it’s so rare. But I...I keep catching myself looking at you, and it’s the way May and Ben used to look at each other. And I can't help but think that I’m finally getting to feel it, too.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you, Peter,” she breathes out, shaking her head. And then she grabs her shirt from the floor and pulls it over her head, before continuing with, “But I’m not going to make you happy like you think I can.”

“That may be the case with your family, but not with me,” he answers, hesitantly stepping closer. She looks like she wants to take _two_ steps back, but she doesn’t. She stands in place, unmoving. “I don’t _want_ anything from you, and I don’t want you to change. You just being _around_ makes me happy. I fell in love with _MJ,_ not the girl your mom wants you to be. Just _you._ And I know you use sex and drinking to cope and deal with things, and I know you try to replace emotional intimacy with physical intimacy, but that’s never going to get you what you need, MJ. You need a family—a _real_ family. And you have one now with me, May, and Ned. You never have to see—or _talk_ to—your “real” family ever again if you don’t want to. We’ll take care of you, and we’ll love you like you _should_ be loved. And I know you hate that word, but it’s true: we love you.”

She lets out a breath right as he takes one in.

“And I want you to know that none of that is going to change if you don’t have feelings for me, okay? If you don’t, I’ll never bring it up again. But this isn't just about that. It’s about having people who _really_ care about you, and we do. _I_ do.”

He was trying to comfort her, but she looks even more angry and upset than she did before.

“It’s easy to _say_ it won’t change things, but it will,” she replies, shaking her head. “God, Peter, I _told_ you not to get feelings for me because it would ruin everything, and it has. You ruined _everything,_ Peter. Everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers with a heavy chest, which makes it difficult for him to breathe. “I just thought you knew that the kissing and having sex meant a lot to me, and it...it gave me hope. But that night when it all really started, the night when we both got really drunk, you...you said you did that because you were jealous of Abby. I thought it meant...I don’t know, I thought it meant something.”

“I was jealous because I thought _she_ was gonna get to have sex on that trip and _I_ wasn’t. I didn’t mean I was jealous because I _liked_ you. And I only slept with you because I was horny, Peter,” she shakes her head, her words dripping with bitterness and frustration. Peter knew that there was a good chance she would be angry and react this way, but he couldn’t prepare himself for how badly it actually hurts. “That’s why I kissed you and that’s why I had sex with you. And that’s the _only_ reason.”

“Okay,” he nods, trying to take it all in, trying to process it and not say or do anything stupid and irrational that could ruin this further. “I understand.”

“You _understand?_ What the hell is wrong with you, Peter?” she asks angrily, bumping his shoulder with hers as she walks past him.

“Why are you mad at me? I’m trying to tell you that it’s okay,” he answers in complete confusion, turning around to look at her. He follows behind her as she walks through the kitchen and starts grabbing her bags. So he stands in the doorway and flips the light on so she can see. And so he can see _her._

“Because...God, it’s _not_ okay. None of this is okay. You just told me your feelings, and now I’m yelling at you and being a jerk to you, and you’re just standing there like…” she gulps, shaking her head. “Like Peter.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, confused.

“It doesn’t matter,” she breathes out, grabbing her bags again. “You just...you can’t love me, okay? I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean I can’t love you?” he asks, gulping and moving forward to stop her. “Because whatever you meant by it, you’re wrong. I do love you. I’ve never been so sure about something in my life.”

“No, Peter, you _don’t!”_ she drops her bags, raising her voice. Peter swallows thickly but doesn’t move. “You can’t. If my family—my own _mom_ —doesn’t love me, then neither do you, okay? You don’t, and you can’t. Now move.”

“Your mom is an _awful_ human being. She’s mean, and careless, and narcissistic, and she doesn’t deserve you,” he lets out an uneven breath of air, and he hurts knowing she could ever think no one could love her. “Honestly, I don’t even know how you came from that family, but I’m so _proud_ of you, MJ. You’re good, and caring, and _loving._ And I know you try to hide that to protect yourself, but you shouldn’t. You should be proud of yourself too, because I know it’s been hard for you for a long time. But it doesn’t have to be hard anymore.”

She looks at him for a second, in his eyes, and she gulps. But before he can even blink, she’s pushing past him and walking through the door.

“MJ, don’t go,” he pleads, wishing _so badly_ that he would have just shut up, and not said anything. He hates himself for ruining all of this. “I’m sorry. We can just... forget I said anything, and we can go back to the way things were.”

“It’s way too late for that,” she opens his door, and starts leaving. She’s rolling her suitcase, and has her duffel slung across her arm, and she’s leaving him. That easily.

He follows her out the door and down the hall, but when he realizes it’s pointless, he gives up and stops in his tracks, just watching her leave.

“Please don’t go,” he begs, letting himself be completely vulnerable, knowing it’s his last shot. His voice is raw and he’s scared he’s going to cry again, but MJ stops walking, and his heart pounds. “Please, MJ, I don’t want to lose you. Not after I just really got you.”

She slowly turns around and looks at him, and he can see that she’s sorry, and that she’s hurting too. His heart races as they look at each other—her bags gripped in both of her hands—and he pictures her dropping them and running towards him, before jumping in his arms and kissing him. But she doesn’t do that.

She’s looking at him, and he’s finally allowing himself to have _hope_ for the first time since he’s confessed his feelings, because he senses something in her, and he sees something in her face, and something feels different between them all of the sudden.

But her facial expression hardens then, and she grips the bags tighter in her hands and says, “I don’t know why you ever even thought you had me, Parker.”

And then she walks away, descending the stairs of his four-story walk-up with her bags at her sides.

He feels his heart being crushed beneath his rib cage, and he breathes in and slides his back down the wall until he’s sitting down in the hall with his legs pressed firmly against his chest. He’s lightheaded and his head is spinning and none of it feels like reality.

He puts his face in his hands, trying to deal with the fact that all of this is his fault. And it’s not even in his head this time that it’s his fault, because MJ made it extremely clear that she thought it was, too.

His head is throbbing from the pressure of the weather, and _also_ from this horrible tension headache he always gets when he’s crying, or on the _verge_ of crying. And he can’t believe that this is how it turned out; with MJ hating him and telling him that it meant nothing, and with the best week of his life ending with MJ leaving him sitting miserably outside of his lonely, abandoned apartment at six thirty in the morning.

He thinks about her face when she looked back at him; the face where she looked like maybe she wanted it all, too. But she was scared, and she was uncomfortable, and he knows that when she experiences those things, the only way she knows how to express it is with anger. And that’s exactly what she did.

He chokes out a silent sob that he had been trying to hold back for a while now, before leaning down and running his shaky fingers through his hair in frustration. Frustration with himself, and with the way things turned out, and with every piece of literature or movie that ever made it seem like it was a good idea to tell your friend that you’re in love with them.

It doesn’t happen like it does in movies, or books, or TV shows; it’s not always a magical moment where the other person instantly realizes that they feel the same way too, and it’s not always happiness and requited love and easy letdowns. Reality _hurts—_ it’s painful, and it’s hard, and it makes you sick. And even if there _are_ some of those with a realistically bad ending, it can never fully portray what it _really_ feels like to be heartbroken.

As a last-second thought, he pulls himself up from where he’s sitting, then goes back inside his apartment to look out the window and make sure she made it down safely. He’s rushing now, scared he’s missed his last glance at her as she leaves. He keeps forgetting that it’s not the big, nice, open bungalow he’s spent the last week of his life at, so he accidentally knocks his body into pretty much _every_ rock-hard surface in his tiny, cramped kitchen on his way.

He finally gets to his window, breathing in as he pushes back the curtain to look for her. But with the now-busy streets, and bikes, and crowds of people, he can’t see her. So he moves from the window and opens the door that leads to their tiny, one-person terrace. It’s pretty old and terrifying, but it’s a better view from there, so he risks it.

He looks down again, his eyes scanning around everywhere for her. For her hair, for her clothes, for her bags. And then finally, right before he’s about to give up and realize she must have already left, he sees her. She’s four stories below him, carrying her bags, walking fast across the pavement. Rain is pouring on her, and once she reaches up to hail for a taxi, her duffel topples over and some of her clothes spill out. She pushes her hair back and gets down to stuff it all back in, before getting up and waving for a taxi again. One finally comes, and she struggles as she stuffs her bags into the backseat. Peter notices her reach up and wipe her right eye with the back of her hand, but he’s too far away to be able to tell if it was from tears or the rain. And then he watches as the car pulls away, disappearing into the mass of identical yellow taxis.

His shoulders slump and his hands settle around the wet, feeble bar in front of him, and he doesn’t want to face the fact that it’s final. She’s gone, and she hates him, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He isn’t sure when Ned’s supposed to get back home, but he’s pretty positive it’s not this early, so he heads back to bed—shutting all of the lights out on his way. He steps on his discarded shirt on the floor of his room when he walks in, and once he lays down, he sees the messy sheets where MJ was laying twenty minutes ago.

It’s crazy for him to think that after all of this time, their entire dynamic changed in _just_ twenty minutes, with _just_ five stupid words. It doesn’t feel like it should be possible for it to all crash down so fast—especially when he had been working so hard to build it up.

So he lays there and stews in his regret, his frustrations, and tries not to think about what _could_ have been if things were different. So he doesn’t think about what would have happened if he _hadn’t_ told her and kept it a secret, and he _definitely doesn’t_ think about what would have happened if she _had_ felt the same way.

He assumes that if he hadn’t told her, she would have wanted to become friends with benefits. That’s where it seemed like it was going, at least, but he knows he couldn’t have emotionally handled that, and it all would have probably ended badly that way too. Because if he had said he _didn’t_ want to do that with her, she would have gotten embarrassed and distant and probably would have stopped talking to him at _least_ for a while.

But what would have happened if she _had_ felt the same? Would they have kissed, and cried happy tears, and held hands while they told Ned and May about how they’re together? Would MJ come over after class every day, but take naps in his bed with him instead of on the couch? Would she have finally said the words “I love you” out loud?

He gulps and shakes away all of his imaginations, refusing to indulge in his painful hypothetical scenarios. It didn’t happen like that, and he has to accept it. Plus, even if they _did_ start dating, MJ is very clearly _not_ a romantic like he is, so it’s doubtful she’d want to do couple-y things with him like he keeps imagining they would.

He just sighs and stares out his window, desperately wishing he could take it all back and fix it. He _still_ doesn’t even know what possessed him to do something so careless and stupid.

Eventually (after not sleeping for almost twenty-four hours) he drifts off into a dreamless sleep. It’s that sort of deep unconsciousness that feels like thick fog in your head and body, and it seems like you might _never_ wake up. But he does.

He shifts in and out of sleep while he hears it: a vague hum from another room that gets louder and then quieter, and then louder again. Eventually Peter blinks his eyes open and stares up at the ceiling, his head _pounding_ painfully now. His headache is worse, and he’s unfortunately hit with his shitty current reality, and he just wishes he was sleeping again. Because the headache, and the fog, and heaviness of his eyelids are pulling him back to it quickly.

But then he hears the hum again.

He sits up in bed then, propping himself up on his elbows as his heart starts pounding. He thought he had maybe imagined it in his sleep, but now that he’s fully awake, he _still_ hears it.

And then he recognizes the song: We Are the Champions by Queen.

“Ned,” Peter laughs out, pulling himself out of bed and making his way to the kitchen. He throws his bedroom door open and sees Ned trying to pull his suitcase through the narrow entryway of the kitchen in annoyance.

“Holy _shit,_ Peter,” Ned gasps, dropping his suitcase as he leans back against the counter and takes in a long, deep breath—his hand against his thumping heart. “I texted you but I didn’t think you’d be home yet because I never got an answer. Not that that’s anything new, but you know.”

“I’m just so glad to see you, dude,” Peter laughs and gulps, walking over to pull Ned into a hug. He feels relief that he’s at least not alone anymore. “Seriously, you don’t even know.”

“Vacation with MJ that bad, huh?” Ned laughs, both of them pulling back from their hug to look at each other.

“Not...not exactly,” Peter breathes out and rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact and distractedly walking over to lean against a counter.

“Uh...what does that mean?” Ned laughs a little, squinting his eyes and crossing his arms suspiciously.

“God, do we have any alcohol here?” Peter sighs, walking over to the fridge to scrounge through it. He sees ketchup, ham, and that’s about it. Until he sees a beer in the bottom, and he takes in a relieved breath as he grabs it. Right as he’s starting to pop the lid off, Ned walks over and snatches it from him.

“Um...since when do you drink?” Ned asks, still confused.

“Ned, just give it to me please,” Peter sighs, reaching for it. But Ned shakes his head, before walking over and pouring it down the drain.

“I refuse to let you drink at three p.m.,” Ned holds his chin high, replying assertively. “Especially when  the aforementioned drink has been in that fridge since _October._ You could, like, die from that.”

He’s right, though, Peter realizes. They had gone to a party all the way back in October, but it was awkward and boring, so they both snuck a beer from the kitchen and then left. They shared Ned’s beer once they got home, neither really knowing what to expect, but both being disappointed when they ended up not really feeling _anything._ So they just tucked the other beer away and left it at the bottom of the fridge until now.

He probably wouldn’t have _died,_ but still.

“Seriously, dude, since when do you drink?” Ned asks again, this time his voice more cautious, caring. He can tell something’s wrong, and he’s trying to approach it in a Peter-friendly fashion.

“Since I ruined my entire life, okay?” Peter groans, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his face in his hands. “This is the worst day ever.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Ned laughs, not fully realizing the severity of it. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Bad layover or something?”

“I’m in love with MJ,” Peter blurts our and sits up, looking at Ned. And then he sinks back down and pushes his fingers through his hair with an exhausted sigh. “Happy?”

“Okay, I know you’re one of those people who joke and laugh at the worst possible times, but I’m actually really worried about you right now s-”

“I’m serious, Ned,” Peter looks at him, gulping. Ned’s jaw drops, and he’s staring at Peter in disbelief. “I fell in love with her, and now she hates me. Again.”

“I’m uh...gonna make some coffee,” Ned stands up and walks over to the counter, practically _dumping_ as many spoonfuls of it in as he possibly can. “You look like you need it.”

“I definitely do,” Peter exhales, rubbing his left temple.

“I’m just _so_ lost right now, Peter,” Ned replies quietly, trying to rack his brain on _how_ this could have happened. “Seriously, last time I saw you guys, you _hated_ each other. You were mean to each other, and always fighting, and I don’t think I remember you two _ever_ really getting along.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter looks down at the table, his shoulders slumping sadly. “But she’s not who I thought she was. It started out that way, yeah, but slowly I just started...started seeing all of these amazing things about her. And since we were fake dating, we had to hold hands and kiss, and we had to hold each other close _all_ the time, and look lovingly in each other’s eyes. I went into it thinking it was going to make everything worse for us, but...the opposite happened. I started to see how strong she was, and why she’s the way that she is, and I started just, like, looking at her differently, you know? And she got drunk one night and confessed to me that no one—not even her family—has told her that they love her. And I figured out that me and you are the only real people who genuinely care about her.”

“Shit,” Ned gulps, taking a sip of his still-scalding-hot coffee. “I mean, I knew she didn’t have many friends, but...just us?”

“Just us,” Peter sighs, shaking his head. “I knew she needed us, you know? Whether she pretends she hates us and this place or not, we’re all she really has. And then the next day she pretended nothing happened, of course. And then we had a karaoke luau bachelor-slash-bachelorette party thing and we got super drunk, and then we...and then we, um, did some stuff, and-”

“-Wait, what?!” Ned asks, almost spilling the scorching hot coffee all over himself as he sets a mug full of it down in front of Peter. “What kind of stuff? You mean sexual stuff, right? Because knowing you, “stuff” could mean mini golf. I need clarity.”

“Yeah, it was...sexual stuff,” Peter gulps, ignoring Ned as he gasps, then laughs, then reaches up to give him a high five. Peter rolls his eyes and acts like Ned’s immature for it, but then he reluctantly smiles and gives him the high five.

“God, I was actually just _joking_ about the second and third base stuff,” Ned laughs, sitting back in his seat with a proud smile. “I can’t believe it was all actually _happening._ And I really believed the making-out-against-a-wall thing was going to happen, but only out of, like, hatred— _not_ that it would turn into love. I should have known you couldn’t be a “no strings attached” kind of person. How far did you go, anyway? Was MJ good? I feel like she’d be good. Did y-”

“-I told her I loved her this morning when we got home,” Peter gulps out, not able to listen to Ned’s excitement anymore. He didn’t want to break the bad news, but he’s in too much pain hearing it to be able to let him finish, or answer any of his questions. “And she doesn’t feel the same. She was mad, actually, and I...I think I lost her. I ruined everything.”

“Oh,” Ned breathes out, awkwardly sitting back in his chair and rubbing the back of his neck. The excitement he had is gone instantly, and it’s replaced with guilt. Guilt for bringing it all up again, and guilt for being so happy and excited before he knew what had happened. “God, Peter, I’m sorry. She was probably just a little freaked, you know? I doubt you ruined anything; I’m sure she just needs some time to process it.”

“She _told_ me I ruined everything, Ned,” Peter laughs out sadly, feeling the familiar heaviness in the back of his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry again, but everytime he relives it he can’t help it. “She even said the _sex_ didn’t matter to her. She doesn’t feel that way about me, yeah, but this is worse, because she probably never wants to talk to me again. Or look at me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Peter,” Ned says, taking a nervous sip from his coffee. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what to say, and Peter can’t blame him. “It’s _MJ_ of all people: she can bounce back from anything. Yeah it might be awkward for a while, but I’m sure it’ll all go back to normal before you know it.”

“I don’t _want_ it to go back to normal,” Peter exhales, feeling the painful headache forming again as he thinks about it. “I don’t want to go back to hating each other. I don’t want to go back to fighting, or being angry all the time, or only seeing her because she’s bored and her roommate is having sex in their room. I want to be with her, and kiss her, and not have to hide the way I feel about her. And even if I couldn’t have that, I still want what we had in Hawaii, at least. We got along, and we joked, and we enjoyed each other’s company. But as soon as we got back to New York, as soon as we walked into this building...it was like none of that even happened.”

Peter had tried to fight it, but tears came anyway. He couldn’t help it. And now Ned feels bad, so he stands up and makes his way over to Peter, before leaning down and hugging him.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Ned sighs, wrapping his arms around his neck comfortingly. “I really, really am.”

“I know, Ned,” Peter sniffs, holding him tightly. “It sucks, but I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Ned laughs lightly, before pulling back and sitting down again. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Peter takes in a long breath, wiping away his tears. “So how was your spring break?”

“Fun for the first two days, and then I got super annoyed with my family for not letting me do _anything_ fun,” Ned groans, shaking his head.

He then goes on to describe what they did, where they stayed (in particular the chandelier he was weirdly obsessed with that was in their hotel), and all of the other noteworthy stories he had. Peter enjoys it—not only loving to hear what Ned did, but it’s also a distraction from _his_ reality, which is nice.

“I missed my baby,” Ned sighs happily as they walk into the living room, and Peter watches as he walks up and hugs his PC. The _same_ PC that’s hooked up to Ned’s giant TV and taking up fifty-five percent of the room. But Peter hasn’t ever minded it, really. “Seriously, I thought I might die without it for so long.”

Peter laughs and plops down on the couch, laying down and watching Ned play his game. Peter would normally play with him, but he’s not really in the mood.

He considers texting MJ and saying he’s sorry. Sorry for what happened, sorry for ruining things, sorry for _telling_ her his feelings at all. But he knows she won’t answer, and he knows she needs space right now. So he ignores the nagging in his brain and keeps watching Ned play his game.

“I’m starving,” Peter sits up from the couch and yawns, watching Ned win yet _another_ round of whatever it is he’s playing. “I think I’m gonna call May and meet her for dinner. Wanna come with us?”

“Uh…” Ned sighs, staring at his game. He’s not even playing it now, but he’s trying to decide if he wants to leave it so soon or not. Finally he tears his eyes away and sets his headset down, before nodding and saying, “Yeah, sure.”

So Peter calls May (who is extremely happy that she’s going to be able to see him), and they decide on their favorite Thai place that’s almost exactly halfway between their apartments. They used to meet there a lot when Peter first moved out and started college, because he would get homesick and miss her, so he’d call and act like he was _starving,_ and she’d tell him: “Thai place in twenty minutes.” And they’d stay for a while, and he’d finally feel alright again. It’s been a while since they’ve been there because of how much busier he’s been this semester, so he’s glad to finally go back.

Peter goes to his room and digs through his suitcase for clean clothes, underwear, and socks, before going in the bathroom and taking a shower.

It’s funny how he can live in this apartment for six months, but as _soon_ as he goes and stays in this giant, luxurious bungalow in Hawaii for a week, he’s used to _that_ bathroom and not the tiny, cramped apartment bathroom he’s dealt with for half a year. He wishes he was back there.

As the not-hot-enough water pours down his back, and he stands under the zero-water-pressure shower head, he thinks about how the last shower he had was with her. How she was kissing him, and pulling him against her, and sighing his name out against his skin. And he imagines the way she felt, and the way she looked when she orgasmed.

He closes his eyes and imagines it all, pressing his head and hand against the wall of the shower, before using his free hand to reach down and start trying to relieve the ache his thoughts are leaving him with. But after trying and trying, and even though his memories are causing a stir in his stomach, he can’t finish because he’s too upset. So he just sighs and finishes his shower instead, giving up.

“Hurry up! The taxi’s getting here in three minutes!” Ned yells through his bedroom door, right as Peter’s pulling on his boxers.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Peter yells back, before sitting down at the edge of his bed to put on his socks. Right as he’s about to, though, he sees the black toenail polish on each of his toes, and he remembers their spa day. He remembers the steam room, and then the face masks and pedicures, then the sauna, then the massage. That was one of the first times he realized just _how_ attracted to her he was.

It hasn’t even been a week yet, but it all feels like a decade ago.

He thinks about what MJ said: _“they always use some expensive-ass nail polish too; only comes off if you want it to.”_ And as he’s looking at it, he realizes it’s true. There’s not even _one_ chip on the perfectly-glossed black there.

It’s weird to know that after everything he’s been through _since_ their spa day, something so simple can still be there without flaw—completely undamaged.

Part of him wants to rub it all off and forget, but another part of him wants to leave it there and keep at least _part_ of that trip alive for as long as possible. So he sighs and pulls his socks on, then his shirt, then his pants, then his shoes.

“Okay, so I know it’s way too soon to be asking this and you probably don’t want to talk about it and everything, but...you and MJ actually had _sex?”_ Ned asks, and Peter makes a face and puts his finger against his mouth to try and quiet down Ned. They’re in the back of the taxi, and Peter’s face flushes a deep red when he sees the driver looking at him through his rearview mirror.

“Jesus, Ned,” Peter whispers, shaking his head.

“Look, I heard it slip out earlier, and I can’t just _ignore_ something like that,” Ned throws his hands in the air, shrugging his shoulders. “Here I was talking about second and third base, when _you_ were actually at fourth. Honestly, Peter, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I know, Ned, it just...wasn’t like that,” Peter tells him, turning to look out the window. “It just didn’t feel like one of those things that I would call and tell you all about, you know? I mean yeah, I thought it would be one of those things _before_ I did it, but after it was over...it just didn’t seem right.”

“Aw does that mean it was bad?” Ned asks, scrunching up his face and taking in a breath through his teeth.

“No, no, not even _close_ to bad—that’s not what I meant,” Peter sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was just...really special. I don’t know, it felt too intimate to just talk about over the phone or something.”

“God, Peter, you’re so mushy,” Ned groans and laughs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter laughs, looking out the window again. Then he whips his head around again suddenly, pointing his finger at him. “And _don’t_ tell May about any of this. And when I see _any_ of it, that’s what I mean. Not about my feelings, or what happened with MJ, and _definitely_ not...the sex stuff.”

“Cross my heart,” Ned nods, smiling proudly.

They finally get to the restaurant, and May’s already in there at a table drinking her water. She looks up when they enter, and she instantly grins and waves them over.

“I missed my boys _so_ much,” she wraps her arms around him and squeezes tightly, and he laughs and wraps his arms around her too. “You’re sunburnt! Did you wear sunscreen? Please tell me you wore sunscreen.”

“Yeah, most of the time,” Peter nods, sitting down at the table as May hugs and squeezes Ned too. “It’s a lot better now than it was—trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she laughs and sits down across from them, a permanent smile on her cheeks as she rubs her hands together. “I already ordered you two some Sprites.”

“Thanks, May,” the say in unison, and Peter feels like he can finally breathe out now. May has always had this pure, positive energy around her, and it always seems to rub off on Peter.

“So tell me about the trip, okay? I wanna hear all about it!” she grins, clasping her hands together under her chin excitedly.

“I doubt you want to hear _all_ about it,” Ned raises his eyebrows and looks down at the table, and Peter clears his throat and elbows him.

“Ow!” Ned laughs, rubbing at his side.

“He’s just talking about how boring the plane ride was,” Peter laughs, waving away May’s concerned look. “But the trip was great. MJ’s family is super rich, so we got this _huge_ over-water bungalow all to ourselves. We even had our own private dock area, which was awesome. Let’s see…”

And then he continues to talk about the hike, the spa, the food, and then about the karaoke, the wedding, the venue. He pretty much talks about everything _except_ MJ, which is a lot harder than he thought it would be—especially when she was the main part of his whole trip.

“So how is MJ? Did you two end up getting along okay? And did you survive the pretend dating thing alright?” May asks, tilting her head as she eats her noodles.

“Uh...yeah. I’d say it went well,” Peter nods, using his chopsticks to push around his food. Ned chokes trying not to laugh, and Peter rolls his eyes.

“Great! I always wished you two would get along,” May tells him, reaching over to put her hand on his. “Such a great girl.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” Peter nods, feeling weird describing the person he’s in love with as “pretty cool.” “Ned, why don’t you tell her about your trip?”

“Oh, May, wait until you hear about this super awesome hotel we stayed at. Okay, the lights were like chandeliers, right? But they were also swirly, too, so they would like move, you know? And-”

And then Peter zones out. He doesn’t mean to, and he _wants_ to hear what Ned’s saying, but his mind is elsewhere completely.

They stay there with May for around two hours to catch up, and then say their goodbyes as May gets in her car and they get in a taxi. He already misses her by the time he sees her car pulling onto the traffic-filled road.

Peter feels physically _and_ emotionally exhausted when he gets home—lazily unpacking his suitcase and washing all of his dirty clothes. He was just gonna lay in bed and read a book while he waited for his clothes to get done in the washer so he could put them in the dryer, but he accidentally falls asleep in bed with his lamp on.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes up, but his light is switched off and the blanket is around him. He’s disoriented and unsure of exactly _where_ he’s at, before he switches his lamp on and looks around his room. He falls back against his pillow with a sigh, before looking over and seeing his laundry basket beside his bed with his clothes dried and folded neatly in it.

He loves Ned.

He looks at his phone and _stupidly_ hopes he might see a text from MJ, but he doesn’t have one. He just learns that it’s four a.m., and that makes him feel even worse, because has to be up in just _four hours_ for classes. Classes that he doesn’t even _like,_ at that.

So he stares up at the ceiling and thinks, and thinks some more, and then worries, and then worries some more. He switches his light off eventually and tries to get in those few extra hours of sleep, but he doesn’t get them. He just wishes MJ was beside him more than anything else in the world.

He eventually gets out of bed and pads through the kitchen, before slowly cracking open Ned’s door and peaking in. Ned’s sound asleep with his small clip-on fan buzzing beside him on his nightstand, and he’s snoring. Peter feels like a kid again, like when he used to sneak into May and Ben’s room after a nightmare, and squeeze his way in between them with his teddy bear in-hand. And May would stroke his hair gently until he fell asleep, and all was right in the world.

“Shit, Peter, you scared me,” Ned groans, sitting up in bed slightly.

“Sorry, Ned,” Peter laughs and gulps, suddenly feeling extremely ridiculous with what he’s doing. “Is it okay if I stay in here tonight? I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, dude, of course,” Ned tells him with a sleepy yawn, before laying back down and patting the pillow beside him for Peter. “Just don’t touch me with your feet. I just have a weird thing about that.”

“I definitely won’t,” Peter laughs, getting into his bed and pulling the blanket over him.

“You good?” Ned asks, turning slightly to look back at him.

“Yeah, I am,” Peter lies, nodding his head. “Do you think it’s stupid that I’m in here? I know I’m nineteen and should be over the whole sleep-in-the-bed-with-someone-else thing, but it’s just...I just got used to sleeping next to someone, you know?”

“It’s not stupid,” Ned assures him, sighing. Peter’s pretty sure he’s half asleep. “I don’t mind, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter nods, taking in a breath and looking up at the ceiling. “Okay, good. Thanks for drying and folding my clothes, too.”

“No problem,” Ned laughs, turning over and yawning. “I figured you’d need some actual clean clothes for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Ned,” Peter laughs, gripping the comforter tighter. “Goodnight.”

“Night dude,” Ned tells him through a sleepy yawn, before wrapping his arms around his pillow and laying back down against it.

Peter still doesn’t get anymore sleep, but it’s still nice to be near someone instead of alone, anyway.

* * *

The first Monday back at school is awful. It’s still pouring rain while Peter walks through campus—his hood over his head and his earphones in his ears while he gets soaked. While Peter’s first class is at eight-thirty, Ned’s is at ten, so they don’t even get to walk together. Which makes this all even _more_ annoying.

His first class is Intro to Engineering II which is already boring, but then he only has _ten minutes_ after it’s finished to run to his next class, Chemistry II, which is even _more_ boring. His whole day sucks, really, and he can’t stop thinking about MJ.

They should be bonding over how sucky it is to go back to school after a vacation— _not_ ignoring each other.

He doesn’t get to go to the dining hall until twelve forty-five, and then by the time he gets through the line and has his food, it’s already one-fifteen. It’s still nice that his classes are done for the day, but still—he’s _starving._

He walks over to the spot where he always eats: a bench against the viney brick wall of the back of the science building. It’s actually the place where he and MJ would eat together every day for months in silence; hating each other, but still glad to know that they aren’t the only one without friends to eat lunch with. It was an unspoken mutual agreement: you don’t have to be seen alone while you eat lunch, but you never have talk to each other, either. It was never awkward, just quiet. Besides, Ned got to be there on Friday’s when his schedule allowed it, so those days were never as bad.

But now MJ isn’t in sight, and Peter wishes she would have shown up anyway—despite all of the reasons why he knows she wouldn’t.

A miserable week passes, and Peter is finally falling back into his previous daily routine. It’s hard without MJ, but he sleeps a lot and reads a lot and does anything he can to get his mind off of her. It’s not good or great, really, but he’s coping. Somewhat.

He hasn’t even seen her _once_ yet—not even around campus—and he doesn’t know if that’s making this all easier or harder on him.

Ned does this thing now where he walks into the kitchen and fixes himself a cup of coffee every morning while Peter’s sitting at the table. While he’s pouring the coffee into the mug, he sighs and looks out the window saying, “You should text MJ.”

To which Peter, every morning, replies, “No way.”

It’s a daily routine now. Ned always comes and checks if Peter’s okay every night if he’s been in his room for a while, and Peter always replies with, “Yeah, dude, I’m good.”

And he is. Well not _good,_ maybe, but he’s dealing with it. That is until he gets home one day from school—one week and three days since he’s seen MJ—and hooks his backpack onto the back of one of his chairs and says hi to Ned. But instead of saying “Hey, dude, how was your day?” like Ned _usually_ does, he just says: “I invited MJ over for a game night tonight. She’s coming at five.”

Peter’s silent for a moment while he rides out his shock, before asking, “Uh...what?”

“I just texted and asked her if she wanted to, and she said yeah,” Ned shrugs, seeming careless. “I figured it was time she started hanging out again, and I knew she probably wouldn’t initiate it, so I did.”

“But...does she know I’m gonna be here too?” Peter asks, swallowing thickly. He doesn’t even know _how_ to react right now, because his mind is whirling in confusion and stress and chaos. “Because I doubt she’d come if she knew I was.”

“Of course she knows you’re gonna be here at _your own apartment_ tonight, Peter,” Ned laughs, shaking his head and walking over to wash his plate in the sink. “I knew she didn’t hate you like you thought she did. Seriously, Peter, it might be awkward at first, but this is a necessary step to get things back to normal again, okay? It’ll be fine.”

“You think so? It...it ended pretty bad, Ned,” Peter gulps, feeling his palms sweat nervously.

“Dude, relax,” Ned laughs, patting his back. “She probably misses making fun of you—I’m sure this past week and a half is killing her. I bet she’ll get here and everything will be normal and you’ll both forget it even happened.”

“I hope so,” Peter gulps, glancing over at the clock on the coffee maker. “Oh God, it’s almost four already. I’m gonna take a shower and...and get ready.”

“Hey, wear that blue plaid shirt, okay?” Ned tells him, right before Peter closes the door.

“Uh...why?” Peter asks, opening it fully so he can look at Ned.

“I just saw MJ checking you out in it one time,” Ned smiles and shrugs, crossing his arms. “I think she likes it.”

“Shut up, Ned,” Peter rolls his eyes and laughs, shutting his door. He ends up wearing the shirt anyway, though.

Once he showers and brushes his teeth and fixes his hair, he goes and helps Ned gather snacks and drinks and the games they’re going to play. During this short period of time, he goes back into the bathroom _three times_ to make sure he looks okay, and that his hair isn’t messed up.

They hear three soft knocks on the door at three fifty-eight. Peter’s heart starts racing, and his eyes widen, and he wishes he would have thought about what he was going to say _before_ she got here. He probably still would have choked out his words, but still.

“Since when do you knock?” Ned laughs, swinging the door open. Peter gulps and looks over, using his fingers to anxiously rip his napkin into teeny, tiny pieces as he sees her. She has her hair pulled back with her curly bangs in her face, and she makes a quick, barely-noticeable glance over at Peter, then at the napkin he’s tearing up, before she looks away and sets the pizza on the table. She looks tired, and she has bags under her eyes.

“Since I just carried a huge ass pizza up four flights of stairs,” she replies with a small laugh, bumping her arm with Ned’s. “Good to see you, loser.”

“You too, MJ,” Ned smiles happily, and Peter’s just sitting there awkwardly. “You didn’t have to get that pizza, by the way. We could’ve ordered something.”

“Yeah, but I still have to hold up my end of the bargain, remember?” she shrugs, pushing the top open and leaning against the counter as she takes a bite. “Which is two months of food pickup.”

Peter recognizes _that bargain_ as the one she agreed on to get him to go to Hawaii with her. He had forgotten all about it until now, actually.

“You don’t have to do that,” Peter sputters out nervously, actually standing up from his seat now for some reason. He feels stupid as soon as he does it, but he can’t sit back down now or it’ll be even _weirder._ So he walks over to the table and grabs a piece of pizza himself—trying to act like that was what he was going to do all along. “It’s...it’s not a big deal. You can just forget about that stuff.”

She eyes him, but he refuses to look over at her. Mostly because he’s too scared, but also because he doesn’t want to see the distant look that he knows she’s giving him right now. He’s not sure he can take it.

“Fine,” she shrugs, taking a bite of her pizza.

Is she just going to ignore everything that happened altogether? Does she think that’s going to work in letting them go back to the way things were? _Will_ that work? He’s still not exactly sure _why_ she’s here, because he assumed she would never talk to him again, and ignore both he _and_ Ned’s phone calls. But she didn’t, and she _is_ here.

“So Ned,” she sighs, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Which leads to Ned sitting down too, and then Peter after that. He feels stiff and nauseous and he doesn’t even want to _eat_ the pizza because of his loss of appetite, but he does anyway so it won’t raise any questions. “How was Miami?”

“God, I have to tell you about this chandelier,” he laughs, now beginning the story of the swirly, moving chandelier for the third time. Peter’s just glad _he_ doesn’t have to be the one to talk right now, because he isn’t sure he could.

MJ listens intently on Ned’s story; she has her fist propped underneath her chin, and Peter watches her facial expressions change with the stories. He missed her so, so badly, that it even hurts just _seeing_ her now.

At some point during the story, she suddenly darts her eyes over to look at him, and he’s watching her, and now _she’s_ watching _him_ watch her, so he quickly turns away and looks at Ned with flushed cheeks. He tries not to look at her again after that, and (mostly) succeeds.

“So what are we playing on this game night?” MJ asks, casually draping her arm over the back of her chair, and propping her legs at the top of the fourth chair that no one’s sitting in.

“We have Monopoly, Uno, BS, Phase 10, Pictionary, and Scrabble.” Ned tells her, tilting his chair back so he can see all of the games on the counter. “Your choice.”

“Hmm,” MJ thinks it over for a moment, before shrugging and saying, “Phase 10’s fun.”

“Phase 10 it is,” Ned grins, standing up and grabbing the pack of cards from the top of the Scrabble box. “Here, you guys set it up while I grab my speaker from my room.”

Then he tosses the game in the air, and MJ grabs it, and then they’re left alone. The air between them is awkward and weird, and it’s filled with all of the things Peter wishes he could say right now.

“I’m...I’m glad you’re here,” Peter forces out, gripping his “phase list” card in his hand and tapping it against the table.

She glances at him briefly while she deals the cards, before looking back down and replying, “Thanks.”

He’s not sure what he expected, but he thought that since she came back here today, it meant she was going to make an attempt at reconciling with him, too. But it doesn’t even seem like she _wants_ to now.

“Sorry,” she sighs under her breath, Peter barely even able to hear it as he looks up at her. “I’m not trying to be mean or cold or anything. I just...don’t know what to say to you.”

“That’s okay,” he nods, understanding completely. He knows he made things weird, so he can’t really blame her. “I get it.”

Ned comes back in then and sets his speaker down on the table, before turning on a  playlist and beginning their game.

The longer they play, the easier it all gets. Peter starts to loosen up, and MJ starts to smile more, and they all end up joking around with each other by phase 9. Well MJ is on phase 9, while Peter and Ned are still stuck on phase 7. But still, Peter feels a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders regardless of losing the game. He’s gotten pretty used to losing to MJ, anyway.

They finish that game (MJ winning, of course), and then end up playing Uno afterwards. They play countless rounds of that, and they’re all genuinely having a _good_ time; not just _pretending_ to so that it’ll make it less awkward.

But one thing he _does_ notice (but tries to ignore the nagging from) is that she hasn’t made _one_ rude or teasing comment towards him. Not at all, not even a little. It’s weird, and it feels wrong, and he’s worried that it’s not even going back to their annoying banter like it used to be, like he thought they would. They’re moving to a place that he doesn’t like, which is a place where MJ is too scared now to mess with him, because she doesn’t want to hurt him worse than she already has. But he wishes he could tell her that she _can_ tease him and she _can_ mess with him about stupid stuff, because all he wants right now is _normalcy_ again. If he can’t be with her, he at least hoped they could just fall back into their routine of what it was like before they left, and _during_ the vacation, but now at least knowing that they don’t _actually_ hate each other.

And he knows that with time it _might_ get back to that, but right now it all feels out of sorts and strange. And he hates it.

It’s almost eleven when their seventh game of Uno ends, and MJ finally stands up and calls it a night.

“Thanks for the invite and everything,” she tells them, before grabbing a leftover piece of cold pizza and sticking it in her mouth.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Ned nods, smiling at her. Then he looks at Peter, then back at MJ. Peter wants to tell him to stay, but he already knows what he’s about to do. “I think I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight, MJ!”

Ned _obviously_ hurries away into his bedroom and shuts the door, leaving them alone together. The instant tension is _unbearable._

“I’m guessing you told him?” MJ asks, keeping her voice even and unreadable. Peter nods.

“Not everything, but...some. Enough,” he replies, nervous about how she’s going to react. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she waves him off, taking in a breath and glancing over at their door like she wants to make a run for it. “It’s fine. I understand why you did.”

Then silence. And he can see her itching to leave, but she knows she has to say something first before she just takes off.

“I guess I’ll see you at school,” she replies, nervously rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet.

“Yeah, definitely,” he forces a smile, and he _knows_ it looks forced, but it’s at least an attempt.

“Okay,” she nods, backing up slowly. “See ya.”

And then she opens the door and leaves.

He actually _doesn’t_ see her at school like she said he would. She doesn’t show up at their spot for lunch for the next three days, and he knows she’s doing it on purpose, but he understands. It just _really_ sucks, and after the game night they had, he thought things were finally turning around. But he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy with MJ—she needs time. And understandably so.

They end up running into each other at one of the campus coffee shops. Well, not really _running_ into each other; it was more like an awkward wave from across the room before MJ walked out the door, but still. The bags under her eyes are worse now, but he’s pretty sure he can’t talk, because his are probably worse.

Peter went home sort of bummed, explaining to Ned how he just _misses_ her. So Ned makes a phone call.

“Ned, what are you doing?” Peter whispers as the phone starts dialing, but Ned pushes Peter out of the way and suddenly says, _“Hey, MJ!”_

Peter stands there and gulps, his heart pounding as he strains to hear her voice on the other line. He can’t, and that makes him nervous.

“Yeah, Peter saw you at the coffee shop today and suggested we invite you to come watch a movie or something,” Ned smiles, turning to look at Peter with a thumbs up—thinking he’s doing him a favor by saying that. “Oh yeah? Okay great, see you soon.”

Then Ned hangs up, before sliding his phone in his pocket with a content sigh.

“So is she coming?” Peter laughs nervously, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Actually she said, and I quote, ‘yeah, sure. I’ll be there in ten,’” Ned tells him, and Peter lets out a long breath and puts on a huge, involuntary smile.

“Okay, good,” he nods, pacing across the living room. “Did she sound like she _wanted_ to come?”

“Peter, we both know MJ wouldn’t come if she didn’t _want_ to,” Ned shakes his head and laughs, patting Peter on the back supportively.

When MJ gets there, she knocks on the door again. He knows she probably feels awkward, but it’s unlike her to _not_ just burst in unannounced. But he keeps telling himself it’s going to take time, because he knows it will.

They end up watching Back to the Future, and MJ and Peter sit on either side of the couch, while Ned sits in the middle with a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

Instead of making comments about how nerdy the movie is the whole time, MJ stays quiet—the only sound she makes is the crunch of her popcorn. Peter forces himself not overthink it.

The next week she comes over again for another movie night, and this time _she_ sits in the middle. Peter thought he would feel better about it, but he just feels nervous and stiff the whole time, and _hopes_ she doesn’t notice.

The day after that, though, she shows up at their lunch spot. Peter was so used to _not_ seeing her there when he walked up, that when he did see her, he felt like turning around and running the other way. But he kept walking, and he gave her a small smile, and he ate his food. They didn’t talk, but then again they never did, so it wasn’t so weird. He smiles all through his next class though, and on his way home, because however awkward it may have been between them, it’s still _progress._ And he knows now that she’s trying to get back to normal too.

She comes over the next day again, but even though she still knocks, she doesn’t wait for them to come to the door—she just walks in afterwards.

“So how are your classes going and everything?” Peter asks, trying to fill the silence after Ned walked out to make one of his obvious, now-routine ‘I’m-making-an-excuse-to-go-to-my-room-for-something-so-you-two-can-be-alone’ moments.

“Okay I guess,” MJ nods, not really expecting him to break the silence. Neither of them usually do when Ned pulls this. And he _always_ pulls this. “Uneventful, as always. I’ll probably fail them all just because I keep falling asleep out of boredom.”

Peter _wants_ to say: _“Of course you won’t fail—you’re the smartest person I know.”_ But he knows that would make this even more weird, so he doesn’t. Instead he says: “Or you’ll just fail because of how dumb you are. Either one.”

MJ looks at him in shock, even _more_ surprised now. He can’t tell what’s going through her head from the comment, but he’s scared that his attempt at trying to tease her again just came off as rude.

“If I was dumb, then that would mean _you_ would have been kicked out of that school first week for _your_ stupidity, Parker,” she laughs, instantly making a comeback. The air feels lighter, and MJ is smiling at something _he said_ again. “Or you wouldn’t have even been accepted at all.”

“Actually, if I’m remembering correctly, it was _me_ who graduated top of my class at Midtown,” he replies, finally feeling like it’s all natural again. It feels good. “I had a 4.76 GPA while you had a...what was it again? 4.72?”

“Shut up, Peter,” she groans and nudges him with a laugh, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Ned comes in then and smiles knowingly and proudly when he sees them, before sitting down and starting the movie.

Peter’s heart races throughout the whole thing.

MJ comes to their lunch spot every day now. They still didn’t talk at first, but after the fourth day, Peter offers her half of his brownie, and she takes it. That gives him enough courage to talk to her again.

“How did Kyra’s trip go? She got back a few weeks ago, right?” Peter asks, trying to start a conversation.

“I haven’t really...talked to her,” MJ shrugs, looking down at her food. “But yeah, I think she got back last Saturday. Not _last_ Saturday, but the one before that.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter nods, tearing the crust off of his sandwich. He even usually eats the crust on his sandwiches, but pulling anything within arms-reach apart is a nervous tick he has, and he _is_ nervous right now.

There’s silence for a minute, but MJ’s tapping her foot against the concrete like she’s thinking.

“Word about your push-MJ’s-mom-into-the-water antics probably spread fast after we left, so I’m sure I’ll get a phone call about it eventually from her,” MJ laughs, and then Peter laughs, and it all feels easy again. “I’m sure she’s proud. God, I can _still_ see mom’s face when you pushed her.”

“We can laugh about it now, but I seriously thought she was gonna pull me from my bed that night and feed me to the sharks,” Peter laughs again, and MJ does too. He starts to think about what actually _did_ happen later that night, but he shoves those thoughts away forcefully; refusing to let this get awkward again on his end.

“I did too, actually,” MJ nods, shaking her head at the thought. “God, that was crazy.”

Peter agrees as their laughs die out.

“I gotta get to my next class,” MJ sighs and stands up, pulling her bag around her shoulder. “See you later.”

And then she’s walking away, and he thinks for a moment, and then says, “Hey, MJ?”

“What?” she asks, turning around briefly to look at him.

“You wanna come over again tonight?” he asks, trying not to let her see his heavy breath. “Netflix just got the newest season of America’s Next Top Model, and I thought we could watch or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” she nods, pulling her bag tighter. “I’ll be there at eight.”

“Great,” he replies, trying not to give too big of a smile like he _wants_ to do. He doesn’t want to be weird. “I’ll make sure to lock the doors at seven fifty-five.”

“That would have been a good joke _except_ for the fact that _you’re_ the one who invited _me,”_ she shakes her head with a laugh, and then turns around. “Work on your shitty one-liners, Parker!”

He just smiles and watches her go—stupidly, _embarrassingly_ happy right now.

When she gets there at seven fifty-nine, she walks right in. She doesn’t knock, and she instantly walks to their fridge to grab a drink. Peter watches her from the couch, forcing back a dumb, happy smile at her returning comfortability here. But then he wipes it off of his face when MJ walks in and plops down on the couch next to him.

“I came here for America’s Next Top Model, so you better put on America’s Next Top Model,” MJ tells him, before opening her bottled water and taking a drink.

Ned’s in his chair next to _their_ TV—headset on and fully invested in whatever video game it is he’s playing. He’s not watching the show with them, no, but his presence in the room helps the awkwardness that comes from just Peter and MJ being on the couch together.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Peter tells her, using his remote to find it on Netflix.

They talk about what’s going on and laugh together, and pick their favorite models and eat popcorn. It’s nice, and normal, and then their hands accidentally touch in the popcorn bowl, and there’s a sudden flash of weird tension and a worried glance between them, but then some of the girls get into a fight on the show, and their attention is back on that again instead.

Before they even realize it, they’re five episodes in and it’s one in the morning. Once MJ notices that, she groans and pulls herself from the couch, annoyed that she has a nine a.m. lecture tomorrow. Peter has an eight-thirty lecture tomorrow, so he knows he should probably be in bed too.

“Five tomorrow?” MJ asks, walking through the kitchen to get through the door. “It’s embarrassing how hooked I am on this show.”

“Five is fine, yeah,” he nods and laughs, before saying, “And yeah, me too.”

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow then, Parker,” she tells him, but she doesn’t make a move to go.

They’re both standing there looking at each other, and there’s definitely tension, but this time it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels like the tension they had that night at the campfire, and the tension they had at the wedding, and the tension they had outside the shower.

He’s pretty sure MJ senses it too, because she says: “Okay, goodnight.” And walks out the door hurriedly.

He lets out a breath as soon as she leaves.

It’s not awkward at lunch the next day like he stayed up all night thinking it would be. They just talk about the show, and what they thinks gonna happen, and he gives her half of his brownie again. It was nice, and it leaves Peter excited for her to come over again tonight.

He gets home with a bag full of snacks: chips and salsa, pizza rolls, sodas, and a bag of Chex Mix. He’s putting it all away, when Ned comes through the kitchen and makes his way to the door.

“Are you going to get food or something? Because I already got some stuff at the store,” Peter asks, turning to look at Ned. But he notices he has a duffel bag in his hand.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m staying the night at mom’s tonight,” Ned tells him with a shrug. “My grandpa’s eighty-seventh birthday is tomorrow, so all my cousins are up here. They wanted me to stay over.”

Peter feels _instant_ dread wash over him at the fact that he’s going to have to tell MJ that Ned’s not gonna be there, and then _she’s_ not going to want to come, and now his entire Friday night is ruined.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Nothing, it’s just...MJ was supposed to come over tonight, but I think it’d be weird without you here,” Peter sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Oh shit, Peter, I had no idea,” Ned tells him, shaking his head. “Do you want me to just stay?”

“What? No way,” Peter laughs, before sighing and putting away the rest of the snacks in the fridge. “You should see your family. I guess I’ll just text her and let her know. We can do it tomorrow I’m sure.”

“Yeah?” Ned asks, obviously feeling bad now.

“Yeah, dude, don’t worry about it,” Peter laughs and hugs him, before saying, “Now go. You know how your mom gets when you’re late.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ned nods and laughs too, before pulling his bag over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun,” Peter waves and smiles, as Ned shuts the door and leaves.

As soon as he does, Peter puts his face in his hands and sighs. Not only did he want to see MJ tonight, but it’s now going to be extremely awkward to have to text her and tell her that _oh yeah, Ned’s not going to be here to diffuse the awful awkwardness, so I guess you shouldn’t come!_

She’s probably on her way now too, so he has to come up with something fast. He grabs his phone and opens their text conversation up, before starting to type out _hey, sorry to tell you this so close to time, but-_

“I’ve had the stupid “wanna be on top?” theme song stuck in my head _all goddamn day,”_ MJ walks in and laughs, throwing her back into the corner. Then she sees Peter frozen in place, then looks at the salsa on the countertop, then looks down at the salsa in _her_ hands that she brought, then looks up at Peter. “I almost said “great minds think alike,” but I think we both know that only _one_ of us has said great mind. I guess we can eat straight from our own jars now without worrying about double dipping, though.”

“I was just texting you about Ned, actually,” Peter forces a laugh, now having to tell her in person. “He’s going to stay with his mom tonight.”

“Yeah, I just passed him on the stairs,” MJ nods, walking over to the cabinet, opening it, and then grabbing their bag of chips. She doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that it’s just going to be them. “So are we gonna start this show or not?”

And so they do. _Complete_ relief floods through Peter at her words, because he was terrified that he would get awkward, and then she would get awkward, and then she’d leave and they would be back at square one.

But now they’re halfway through their second episode, and nothing feels weird or off at all. It feels like them again, and Peter even stops worrying long enough to forget that it ever _was_ weird at all.

They actually end up doing that “just one more episode” thing about five times, but since it’s a Friday night it’s completely justified. They end up finishing off the season _that night_ (well, morning now) and by the time it’s over, it’s almost five a.m.

Neither are even tired.

“I should go,” MJ stands up from the couch, brushing off the chip crumbs from her lap. “God, I can’t feel my legs right now. Plus that stupid song is _still_ stuck in my head.”

“It’s late,” Peter tells her, standing up too. He doesn’t want to ruin a perfect night with a could-be-taken-as-suggestive comment, but he also wants to be nice and give the option. “You could stay here if you wanted to. Just crash on the couch or whatever. If you wanted.”

Since this night _has_ been so fun and normal, he thinks she might actually say yes. But as soon as he asks it, the atmosphere changes, and he feels that awful sickness in his stomach like he knows he ruined everything again. And then there’s another long silence again between them.

“I...don’t think that would be best, Peter,” MJ tells him softly, trying not to hurt his feelings by it. “Sorry, but I should go.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he gulps and laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I totally understand.”

“Okay,” she laughs a little too, taking in a long breath. “Okay, good.”

But just like last night, she doesn’t move. She just looks at him, and he’s looking at her, and it feels just like the first night they messed around; the night when they were so drunk they had stumbled back to their room. It’s happening again, and he should have known it was inevitable to after he confessed his feelings. Their “normal” act could only be kept up for so long before they both remembered everything that happened, and his embarrassingly-personal-confession, too.

He parts his lips so he can breathe, and she’s still looking at him, and her hand is on the top of the couch right next to where his is. The tension’s there again. And although he tries _so hard_ not to, his eyes involuntarily glance down to her lips, and there’s that “it’s five a.m. and everything feels romantic” vibe, and all he wants in the _world_ right now is to kiss her again.

“God, Peter,” she breathes out a bitter laugh, before turning and making her way to the kitchen. “I thought there was an unspoken agreement between us. Or was I just imagining that?!”

“What unspoken agreement?” he follows her, switching the kitchen light on.

“The one where me messing with you about liking me is off limits _forever_ now, and the one where...where you can’t look at me like _that,”_ she huffs, pressing her hands flat on the table and taking in a deep breath.

“I don’t know what _look_ you’re talking about, but-”

“The look where you want to kiss me, Peter,” she gulps, turning to look up at him. “I’ve seen it a hundred times—I know what it looks like.”

“I’m sorry,” he confesses, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair anxiously. “I’m _so_ sorry. I promise you I’m trying really hard not to, okay? All of this has just has been difficult, and...I’m trying.”

“I know that, Peter, but if this friendship thing is ever going to work, you just...you can’t,” she breathes out, her hands shaking at her sides now. “You just _can’t.”_

“I won’t anymore,” he nods, desperately trying to assure her. “I’ll try harder, and I won’t.”

“God, Peter,” she says again, now pacing the kitchen. He feels awful, and he has no idea what to do to help.

“It won’t happen again,” he gulps, following behind her like a sad, pitiful puppy. “Let’s just start this over again, okay? The rest of the night was great—let’s just...go to sleep and forget this part. And-”

Suddenly she turns around in front of him out of nowhere, before grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. It was sudden, and her lips are firm against his like she _needed_ it, and he’s so taken aback that he can hardly even enjoy it while it lasts—which isn’t long. He looks at her for a moment in shock after they part, before turning the other way and pushing his hair back with his palm.

“You _can’t_ do that to me if you don’t mean it,” he gulps, shaking his head. “You can’t.”

She _never_ means it, either. She told him herself that them having sex meant nothing to her, so the fact that she’s doing this to him now, after _knowing_ how much it hurts him...it hurts even worse. And although he wanted to salvage at least their friendship, he doesn’t even know if he can do that after this.

“I’m gonna go,” she replies as she hurriedly walks to the door, grabs her bag, and then leaves.

He feels slightly lightheaded, so he presses his hand against the table for support, and closes his eyes and gasps for air. This can’t be happening. It can’t be—it has to be some awful, horrible nightmare he hasn’t woken up from yet.

He hasn’t even caught his breath yet when he hears three soft knocks on the door. He already knows it’s MJ and he doesn’t even want to answer it. She’s probably going to say she’s sorry, and he’s going to have to pretend it’s okay when it’s not. It’s not at all.

“Peter,” she gulps as he opens the door, and her eyes are filled with tears and her hands are clasped at her sides, and her bag is on the floor next to her feet. And she opens her mouth to say something, and she hesitates for a moment, before whispering: “I meant it.”

“What?” he asks, searching her face desperately for answers.

“I meant the kiss, and I meant every _other_ kiss on the trip, and I meant the sex,” she tells him in a shaky breath, and he knows she’s scared. Terrified. “I meant all of it.”

“MJ…” he looks at her with wide eyes, trying to process all of this at once.

“I have feelings for you, Peter,” she tells him quietly, and she’s crying, and his heart is breaking watching her like this even though what she’s saying is _good._ He knows how hard it must be for her, but she’s doing it anyway despite that. “I do, and I think I have for a while, but I was scared. Because I’ve been with guys, I’ve been with girls, but you were right—I only did it to fill some stupid, awful emotional void that I thought my mom and my family left me with. But _none of it_ meant anything—not ever. Not until it was all with you. And it terrified me, and it terrifies me now, and I thought that if I stayed away from you, I’d feel better and I wouldn’t be scared anymore. But it got worse, and I haven’t been sleeping, and it only got better when I started seeing you again, and talking to you again.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say, so he just wraps his arms around her and pulls her into a hug. She puts her arms around him too, and sobs into his chest.

“I’m scared,” she cries, and he squeezes her tighter. “I’m really scared, Peter.”

“I know,” he gulps and lays his cheek against her head, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it all out. I promise we will.”

She pulls back from the hug then, and her eyes are swollen, but she’s smiling a little. And then she pulls him forward and kisses him, and then they press their foreheads together and laugh breathlessly.

“I love you, MJ,” he whispers, gulping as he says it out loud again.

“It...it might take me a while to be able to say it,” she tells him quietly, and he just kisses her again.

“I know,” he nods, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheek. “I know, and that’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter:( stick around for the epilogue next week though and let me know how you like the ending!!! I love you guys <3


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter :( I cried writing this LMAO

After MJ eventually calmed down and tamed her rare burst of emotions, they sat down at the table hand-in-hand to talk. She had held all of those built up feelings in for _so long,_ that it understandably took her a while to get them all out and recover from it. He just held her and helped her through it as best as he could, letting her take her time with it.

And then they talked.

“You know the day of the storm when we got in a fight, and I started drinking? And you found me, and we talked, and I told you all of that stupid personal stuff?” MJ asked, looking down at her hand in his. “I...lied about not remembering it. I remembered all of it, I was just humiliated and scared, and I didn’t want things to be weird when we woke up. I was embarrassed, because I’ve never opened up that way before, and I did with you. And that really, really terrified me—no matter how careless I acted about it.”

And then she had gone on to talk about how she had already been “sort of” attracted to him before the trip, which was why she tried to avoid seeing him without his shirt on, and why she also pretended none of the kissing or touching affected her—because it actually did. He was somehow shocked by that even after she told him her feelings. She then went on to admit that after kissing him, she did feel different, and she mistook her genuine feelings for physical attraction.

“I eventually realized I wanted you, but because I had never really cared for someone that way, I thought I only wanted you in the physical sense—not the romantic one. And every time we kissed, or touched, or pretended to be together, it all just got harder and harder. I thought having sex would cure it all like it always did, and I thought it would make all of those weird feelings go away. But it didn’t work,” she gulped, shaking her head. She didn’t make eye contact throughout this entire confession, but he kept his eyes on her while hers were glued to the table. “After having sex with those random people and dulling the pain for a while, I would leave and never talk to them again, because it’s all I ever wanted with them. But it was different with you. After we had sex, I wanted more. Not just more sex—although, you know, that too—just...more. More touching, and being close, and at first I stupidly thought that all of it meant we could have this friends with benefits thing and that would fix it, but somewhere deep down I knew it wouldn’t. Because that, for once, wasn’t the only thing I wanted from someone I just had sex with.”

Peter squeezed her hand, and rubbed his thumb across her knuckle in encouragement. He’s still in shock.

“And when you confessed how you felt that morning...I was so angry. I was angry because I didn’t know how to react, and I didn’t know what to feel, and I still hadn’t fully realized exactly what was going on yet, and you saying that threw me off. And it bothered me because I…I was so mean to you, and you were still good to me despite that. Even when I didn’t deserve it.” she shook her head, laughing and gulping. “In the ocean the last night when you didn’t want me, I was really hurt. I didn’t think I would be, and it wasn’t some ego thing, I just...I didn’t know how to react, and I threw a fit like some annoying kid. But it wasn’t because I didn’t get sex from you— it was because I realized then that I wanted you to want me. And then after all of that, and after turning me down again, you confessed you were in love with me? I couldn’t understand how you could possibly want me after the awful things I had done to you. It didn’t make sense, and I was confused. I...still am.”

“It’s only because I knew all of the things you had said and done were ways you were coping, okay? I knew you didn’t mean them. I knew you needed someone who wouldn’t just give up because of something like that.” Peter replied, and she turned to look at him finally.

She had kissed him then, and he felt her full, unwavering sincerity in it, which is something he never thought he would get from her. And then they went in his room, and pulled each other close, and they both finally got a good night’s rest for the first time in weeks.

When they woke up later that day and remembered the happenings of that morning, things felt surreal. Because he woke up with his face against her neck, and his arms around her waist, and before today, he never thought he would be able to do any of this with her ever again.

But he is now.

While still half asleep, he feels MJ shift against him. And then she shifts again slightly, and then he feels her trying to quietly slide out from under his arm.

“Hey,” Peter rubs his eyes sleepily, before looking up at MJ who has now gotten out of bed. He missed seeing her sleepy eyes every morning, and seeing her yawn, and seeing her messy morning hair. “Where are you going?”

“The bathroom,” she turns to him and crosses her arms, trying to fight a smile. They both are, actually, because everything is finally happening the way it _should_ be, and they both know it.

“Noooo,” he whines, grabbing her hand and pulling her back down. “Just lay in bed with me—it’s cold.”

“You’re so disgustingly clingy, Parker,” she laughs, taking in a deep breath as she falls back down against him. She’s on top of him, and his arms are around her waist, and he’s looking up at her above him with the biggest smile ever on his face.

“I’m so happy,” he laughs, reaching up with one of his hands to brush her hair back.

She laughs a little too and shakes her head, swallowing thickly and looking down at him. He knew it wouldn’t be instantly comfortable for her to do these sort of couple-y things, but he understands that it’s going to take some time for her to be okay with it. And that’s okay with him.

“I am too,” she nods and breathes out, looking slightly uneasy.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, loosening his grip.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she nods and laughs, before laying down stiffly against his chest. “It just feels weird to not be making fun of you for once.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, and feels her laugh, and then she sits up again and lays her chin on her hands, which are on his chest.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if I _hadn’t_ gone on that trip?” Peter asks, his thumb gently running across the smooth skin of her arm. “Like...do you think it would have eventually ended up the same?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, biting the inside of her cheek like she’s thinking about it. “Probably. I mean, it was always _obvious_ you wanted me, so…”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter laughs and shakes his head, rolling his eyes. But then he thinks about it, and replies: “Well...I don’t know, maybe you’re right. I think I did, I just never really realized it.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you _didn’t_ hate me before the trip?” MJ laughs, sitting up and narrowing her eyes at him.

“No, I did. Or I _thought_ I did, at least,” he shrugs, looking up at her. “But Ned must have seen something else, because he _always_ thought there was something between us—even before I did. And then there was the whole Kyra thing too, and-”

“Whoa, whoa, what “Kyra” thing?” MJ asks, pushing herself up to where she’s straddling his stomach.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Peter laughs uncomfortably, only realizing now that MJ never knew that Kyra saw through her “I have a boyfriend” act. “You know when she pulled me over to dance with her at the wedding? And we talked? Well...she told me she knew we weren’t really dating. She had known the whole time, actually, but she understood why you did it, so she never told anyone else. But after that she told me to confront you about my feelings, because she somehow knew I was in love with you.”

“She knew the whole time?!” MJ asks, completely taken aback. “Then what about the whole lingerie thing? Or the “you two don’t even look like a couple” thing? Why would she do that if she knew?”

“I asked the same thing,” Peter laughs, sitting up slightly and leaning his head back against the headboard. “She did it to push us closer together. She was trying to _actually_ set us up, because she could see we had real feelings for each other. So basically she replaced Ned for a week, we just didn’t know it.”

“Of course she was trying to set us up,” MJ sighs, shaking her head with a laugh. “I should have known.”

“That’s the day I realized, you know,” Peter gulps, reaching up to tangle their fingers together. “At the wedding? When we were dancing, and the music was playing, that’s...that’s when I realized I was in love with you.”

She looks down at their intertwined hands, unable to make eye contact with him now. He’s still looking at her.

“So _that’s_ why you were staring me down while we were dancing, huh?” she laughs, and he’s staring at her again now and nodding.

“Yeah,” he laughs with her, and she’s on top of him, and he’s holding her hand, and he can’t believe it’s all finally happening. It feels like he’s about to wake up from a dream and it’s all gonna be ripped away from him again. “I can’t help it.”

He sits up a little higher then, and she finally looks in his eyes, and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.

She sighs and relaxes against him, reaching up and pressing her palms to his flushed cheeks, pushing her fingertips into the base of his curls, running her thumbs across his cheekbones. And his hands are on her waist, and then they’re running up her back, and even though the kiss _started_ off slow, it’s getting heated quickly. But he can feel and sense MJ’s slight hesitance, so regardless of his shallow breath, he pulls back.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted to kiss me,” he whispers, shaking his head and reaching up to push his hair back.

“You don’t have to ask,” she laughs and reaches up, sinking her fingers into his messy hair. It feels good, but Peter knows he’s going to have to adjust to her being nicer to him, too, because he’s not exactly used to it. “It’s just...I’ve never done this before. Not when it’s serious, and I actually care, and the persons _knows_ I care. I don’t know how you’re so vulnerable with all of it—it’s terrifying.”

Peter has to admit that _he_ actually feels the opposite right now, and like their roles have switched. Usually MJ is the confident, driven one in _this_ side of their relationship, but now she’s the one that’s scared and nervous and afraid to initiate anything more than kissing. And now _Peter_ is the confident, driven one—his nerves and worry gone now in his newfound security from knowing she wants it all (and him) too.

“Don’t worry about it,” he nods, “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

“Oh no, we’re definitely having sex; I just mean you shouldn’t expect me to be as...fearless as last time,” she laughs, before leaning down and kissing him again.

He laughs against her mouth too, before flipping them over until she’s laying against the pillow, and he’s on top of her.

“I _knew_ you had that hot, take-control side to you, Parker,” MJ sighs happily against him then, and wraps her arms around his neck. “I knew it.”

He just smiles and kisses her harder, before sliding his hand under her thigh, and then pulling her leg over his back.

“God, what happened to _you_ while I was gone?” She smiles against his lips, curving her hand around the base of his neck, and using the leg around him to pull him harder on top of her.  

“Now that I know you want me too, and all of this too…” he breathes out, pressing his nose to hers, feeling her heavy breath. “I’m not as nervous to be with you. Because when we had sex the first time, I thought that’s all you wanted from me, and I was scared that I was just digging myself deeper and deeper into some stupid, hopeless dream. But now that I know for sure about you—about _us_ —I don’t have to think about it or worry about it anymore. I just want you.”

“Good,” she replies, before desperately pulling him back down against her and kissing him. She’s not smiling anymore. “Because I want you too.”

He can hardly contain himself after hearing her say those words, and finally knowing now that she _means_ them the way he does.

 _“God,_ MJ,” he mutters against her neck, and she’s arching her body and pressing it into his, and he reaches down with one of his hands and slides it up her shirt. He feels her soft skin beneath his fingertips, and she’s sighing and running her hands through his hair. They pull apart momentarily when she reaches down and tugs his shirt off, and then she’s moving her hands down his back while he hooks his hand around the collar of _her_ shirt, roughly pulling it down.

He’s about to lean down to press his mouth against the skin there, but instead, he finds himself running his thumb across a dark purple spot below her collarbone. A hickey. He glances up at her, and she opens her eyes and looks back at him in confusion. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, but then she looks down at where his thumb is, where she had tried to cover it up with concealer, and she sighs.

“It didn’t mean anything at all,” she looks up at him, reaching up to hold the hand he has against her skin. “I was just trying to...forget about everything. I wanted it to be you.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he tells her softly, leaning in and giving her a warm, lingering kiss.

He obviously doesn’t want to _really_ think about her with anyone else, but he knows she has been, and all that matters is that she’s with him now.

She kisses him back, and it’s gentle and sweet at first, but it doesn’t take long to become intense again because they both want _more._

He pulls her shirt off soon after, and he sees a few more hickeys spread over her chest and shoulders, but he ignores them this time and doesn’t stop.

He presses his lips against her chest, then her stomach, and then looks up at her to make sure it’s all okay, before sliding her basketball shorts down and off her legs.

“I don’t have a condom, so I’ll go down on you again,” he opens his mouth so he can catch his breath, both of them looking at each other. She smiles up at him. “If you want that.”

Then before she has time to answer, MJ’s eyes glance behind Peter. So he turns around with furrowed eyebrows to see what she’s looking at.

“Uh...I’m guessing you guys made up then?” they hear Ned say from the doorway, and Peter _instantly_ pulls the blanket over himself and gasps.

“Jesus, Ned!” Peter exclaims, falling onto the bed next to MJ and pulling the blanket over her too.

“Yeah, Leeds, we were right in the middle of something,” MJ groans, sitting up and looking at him.

“So I heard. And _saw,_ ” Ned stands in the doorway, smiling proudly at them. Peter rolls his eyes. “I have some condoms if you need them though. Still have that handful I grabbed from the basket in sex ed at Midtown. I thought I would have used them by now, but...you know.”

Then, at the exact same time, Peter replies to Ned with, “I think we’re good,” right as MJ says, “yeah, we’ll take some.”

Then they look at each other, and Peter just sighs as he pulls his shirt back on.

After MJ got dressed too, they all went into the living room, sat on the couch, and talked about everything going on. MJ didn’t say much as Peter told Ned about how they’re together now, but Ned had this proud grin on his face the whole entire time. Peter expected it, but it still made him happy regardless.

MJ just seems nervous through it all, because she grips onto Peter’s hand like she’s going to accidentally _break_ it the whole time he talks to Ned. He just squeezes hers back for reassurance and comfort.

“So does this mean I need to get earplugs now?” Ned asks, looking between them and smiling.

“That’s _exactly_ what this means,” MJ nods and laughs, reaching past Peter to bump her knuckles with Ned.

“No, it doesn’t,” Peter sighs and laughs, shaking his head.

“Peter’s just being polite; you really do need them. I think it’ll be a good investment,” MJ shrugs, before looking at Peter with a wink. He blushes and looks away.

“So what about May? When are you telling her?” Ned asks, leaning back in his chair and swirling around in it. “She’ll die of happiness probably.”

“Uh…” Peter turns to MJ, trying to see what she thinks of it. Her face is blank. “We haven’t really gotten that far yet.”

“You might want to at least _talk_ to her soon,” Ned tells him, stopping momentarily before swerving the other way in his chair. “She’s been texting me for a while, like, worried about you. She could tell something was off when you got home, and then you haven’t kept up contact for a while so she texted me asking how you’ve been. I hate lying to her and everything, but I knew you weren’t ready to talk about the whole “Hawaii” situation, so…”

“God, I feel awful,” Peter leans forward and puts his face in his hands, shaking his head. “I know she worries about me, I should have called. I was just...in a bad way, you know?”

“I think that’s my fault,” MJ nudges her shoulder with his, trying to cheer him up. “Just setup a time to meet with her tomorrow, and we’ll...figure it out then.”

“Really?” Peter turns to her, slightly surprised. He was expecting her to avoid _that_ part for as long as possible. “I mean...it won’t make you uncomfortable to do it so soon?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” MJ narrows her eyes, confused.

“Of course _I_ want to tell May—more than anything,” he laughs, looking at her. Ned’s still swirling in his chair. “I just thought _you_ wouldn’t want to.”

“It’s scary, yeah, but I know how important May is to you,” she breathes out, shrugging. Peter knows she’s probably internally freaking out right now, but she’s not showing that for his sake. “Which means it’s important to me too. Or...whatever.”

“God, this is so crazy to see right now,” Ned laughs, shaking his head. “Like, you hated each other a _lot_ the last time I saw you before the trip. And now this? Don’t get me wrong, I _love_ this. It’s just throwing me off a little to see you being nice to each other for once. And not only _nice,_ but...you’re _together.”_

“Get used to it,” Peter smiles, then turns to MJ, tilts his head slightly, and kisses her. She gives him a short kiss back, before pulling back and laughing. She’s trying to hide her discomfort, but he can always tell. He knows it’s something she’ll have to grow used to, though, and he expected that too.

“I love you guys,” Ned sighs happily, now only _slowly_ swirling back in forth in his chair as he smiles at them.

“No offense, Ned, but I’m really glad you couldn’t go on the trip with me,” MJ laughs, bumping Peter’s knee with hers.

“Me too, because then my two best friends wouldn’t be in love right now,” Ned shrugs, and Peter’s smiling as he tangles his fingers with MJ’s and lays his head on her shoulder.

* * *

“Are you sure I, like...look okay?” MJ asks Peter, after compulsively going back to stand in front of the body mirror on the back of Peter’s door. She’s wearing a normal MJ outfit, but somehow that’s not good enough today.

They’re about to meet Aunt May for lunch, and MJ has been up since six a.m. worrying about it. Which is _not_ like MJ at all. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her give a second thought about something like her looks before, which makes him _instantly_ know this whole thing is making her nervous.

“You look amazing like always,” Peter walks past and pushes himself onto his toes slightly to kiss her on the cheek. She’s already wearing shoes and he isn’t, and so the height difference seems even bigger right now.

She swats him away with a laugh as he moves past her to sit on the edge of the bed to put on and tie his shoes. “You look like MJ, which is exactly what May loves about you. She just wants you to be you, and so do I. If we’re happy, she’ll be happy too—I promise. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want her to hate me,” she sighs, before breathing in deeply and running her hand across a wrinkle in her shirt.

“Hey,” Peter furrows his eyebrows, and then stands up and grabs her nervous hands in his. She takes in a breath and rolls her eyes as she looks at him. “May couldn’t hate _anyone_ even if she wanted to. You’ve met her before, and she loves you. She’ll be happy, and we’ll eat, and everything will be great. Besides, we already know _your_ family hates me, so anything will be a step up from that.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, but he can tell she looks relieved. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Love you,” he smiles, and then leans in and kisses her. He’s trying to get into a habit of saying that to her so she can get used to it, and accept it, and believe it.

(Plus he just likes telling her a lot.)

“Come on, let’s go,” she smiles and shakes her head, before pulling him out of his room and out the door.

On the cab ride over, she stares out the window and nervously taps her finger against the worn, leather seat beside her leg. Peter reaches over and grabs her hand in his, doing the only thing he knows how to do to comfort her. She squeezes his hand back, still watching out the window.

“You okay?” Peter asks as they stand on the sidewalk outside of the cafe, waiting to go in.

“I’m good,” she nods, completely composed now. She doesn’t even look _slightly_ scared or nervous anymore, even though he knows she is.

Good actress.

 _Great_ actress.

“Let’s go,” she tells him, before opening the door and leading the way.

Peter’s eyes glance around the room for May, before spotting her in a booth staring down at the menu. She notices them walking towards her from her peripherals, so she looks up and pushes her glasses up, smiling. She looks slightly shocked when she sees MJ with him, but that look doesn’t last long.

“Oh, MJ, I didn’t know you’d be here! It’s so great to see you,” she tells her, standing up from her seat _just_ to pull MJ into a tight, warm hug. Peter smiles and slides into the seat opposite of May.

“Hey, May,” MJ hugs her back awkwardly, before sitting in the seat beside Peter. She keeps her distance though, as May gets back into her own seat across from them.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but Peter didn’t tell me you were coming,” May tilts her head slightly as she looks at them, her thick hair cascading across her folded arms on the table. “Is something going on?”

“Actually...yes,” Peter nods, looking at her. He sees MJ take in a breath from the corner of his eye. “We have something to tell you.”

“And that is…?” May asks and narrows her eyes; a small, curious smile on her lips. She must know it’s not _bad_ news since Peter’s been smiling this entire time.

“Well,” he starts, then glances over at MJ. He’s been so focused on getting her through dealing with _her_ nerves, that he didn’t even realize _he_ had a whole bunch of his own. “You know how I went with MJ on the trip so we could pretend to date? So her family would get off her back?”

“Yes…” May nods, then looks between them like she just might know where this is going.

“Once we got home, I sort of realized I had feelings for her,” Peter breathes out, glancing over at MJ again. She’s staring down at the table, her fingers curling under the sides of her thighs nervously. “And once I learned the feeling was mutual...we decided to do something about it. So we’re together now. We thought you should know.”

And then he reaches over and grabs MJ’s hand. She looks at him and he smiles, and she gives a weak smile back, before they both turn to May.

It all sounded _stupidly_ simple that way, even though it was really much more painful, complicated, and meaningful than that. But he just wanted to get straight to the point, lay it on the table, and maybe just tell May the _full_ story one day when MJ’s not around to be embarrassed by him telling it.

“Peter,” May gasps and laughs, and she has tears in her eyes, and everyone’s staring but it’s very obvious she doesn’t care because she reaches up and grabs both of their hands in hers. And now they’re in a hand-holding circle, and Peter feels like MJ and May are _both_ going to break his fingers off for different reasons. “I love this, and I love you guys, and I’m _so_ happy for you.”

“Thanks, May,” they both reply in unison, MJ taking in a breath of relief and finally smiling.

“I have to say, Ned’s been predicting this for a while now,” May laughs, shrugging her shoulders.

“Yeah, he sort of...predicted a lot,” Peter nods and laughs with her, glancing at MJ. They look at each other, _both_ thinking of the “wall” thing. They quickly look away though, pushing it from their minds. If there was ever a time _not_ to think about drunkenly making out with MJ, and then drunkenly _eating_ out MJ, this is definitely it.

“I always thought there might have been something there, but I didn’t want to push if you weren’t ready. And before the trip, the way you acted with each other...I could tell you weren’t,” May tilts her head, still smiling as she looks between them. “I’m just glad you both came to the realization on your own. I’m incredibly happy for you both, and I can tell you are too.”

And then, together again, they say: “Thanks, May.”

May eventually lets go of their hands when the waitress approaches them, and Peter and MJ both order the first things they see off the menu because they didn’t have any real time to look at it.

They talk more about how it happened when May asks, but it’s nothing _too_ embarrassing, so even MJ surprisingly answers some of the questions herself.

Eventually they part ways and Peter promises May he’s going to stay in touch more, before they hail a cab back home.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he nudges her arm in the backseat, smiling as he watches her buckle her seatbelt.

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad at all,” she nods, but seems happy that it’s done and over with. “She’s so great. You’re lucky.”

 _“You’re_ lucky too, because you’re going to be seeing her a lot more now,” he assures her, smiling and leaning his head back against the seat as he looks at her. “I love you.”

“Oh really, Parker? I didn’t know that after the ten thousandth time you’ve told me that in the past twenty-four hours,” she laughs too, before leaning in and holding his face steady as she kisses him. Then mumbling against his mouth, he hears her say, “Idiot.”

He just smiles and kisses her back.

They finally get home, and they’re both glowing with happiness as they tell Ned (who has his headset around his neck and his game paused) how great it went with May. Then they give him their leftovers, before going into Peter’s room and crawling into bed together.

Peter cuts on his TV and they watch a movie, and his arms are around her and she’s pressed against him. He keeps diverting his eyes from the movie so he can look at her, and it’s distracting because he wants to make a move but he was waiting for _her_ to make a move so he could know for sure she wanted that. Because although he’s pretty sure she does, nothing more than kissing has happened for the full day now that they’ve been together, and he isn’t sure where they’re at in any of this.

“Hey guys, I’m about to go to moms,” Ned stands in the doorway, smiling in at them. They both sit up slightly to look at him. “I should be gone for a few hours. Oh, and on a _completely_ unrelated note, I left some condoms on the counter in the kitchen. Bye!”

Peter sighs as they hear the front door open then shut, and now everything but the movie in front of them is silent. And suddenly, even though they’re together, Ned’s suggestive comment made things awkward.

There's a hesitation between them, a silence, before MJ breaks it.

“He’s an idiot,” MJ laughs, shaking her head as she lays back down to watch the movie.

“Yeah, he is,” Peter replies, before laying down too. He gulps.

Soon after that, MJ grabs Peter’s hand and pulls it over herself again, linking their fingers together. Peter eases up a little at that, realizing he had probably just imagined the awkwardness between them.

It’s not even ten minutes later when MJ brings Peter’s hand to her mouth though, pressing her lips softly to his palm. He glances at her but she’s still watching the movie, so he turns and watches the movie again too—just taking it as a sweet gesture.

But she _keeps_ doing it. Her lips slowly move upwards on his hand, and her free hand is now lightly running across the skin of his forearm and giving him chill bumps. And then she turns and looks at him as she slips his index and middle finger between her lips. She’s looking in his eyes, and her cheeks are hollowed out as she slowly moves her tongue against his fingers.

“What, uh…” Peter starts, sitting up and breathing out. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She laughs, pushing him down against the bed and crawling on top of him. “I’m making a move since _you_ won’t.”

“I was waiting for _you_ to make the move,” he replies, relaxing against the pillow and looking up at her.

“Yeah, well I was waiting for _you_ to,” she laughs again, looking down as she bites her lip and slides her hands under his shirt, pulling it up his stomach. Then she grabs at the bottom of it, and he sits up so she can fully pull it off. “You can’t pretend like you’re shy anymore after what you were doing yesterday before Ned interrupted. The jig’s up, Parker.”

Peter’s breath is heavy already in anticipation, because MJ’s now leaning down and pressing her hot mouth against the skin of his chest, and his stomach, and her hands are squeezing his arms and shoulders. And then she’s going lower, and she’s unbuckling his belt, and Peter’s eyes close as she starts desperately dragging his pants down his legs. He kicks them off the rest of the way, as she slowly rakes her hands up his thighs, proudly smiling at the strain in his boxers.

“Already hard?” she smirks, raising an eyebrow.

And then, just like he told her during their first time, he looks up and whispers out, “For you.”

“God, I hate you,” she smiles slightly, but she’s breathless too as she crawls on top of him and kisses him again.

He knows now that her “I hate you,” is what she says when she _really_ means “I really, really like you.”

He smiles against her and flips them over, holding himself up with one arm and using his free hand to push her hair back. And then he uses that same hand to run down her neck, her arm, her chest, her stomach, before nudging her legs apart with his knee and sliding his hand between them. She still has her pants on, but the contact and pressure of his hand against her—even through the fabric—forces her to pull her lips from his so she can breathe. And then she urges her hips up slightly and moves her body against his hand, moaning out.

From that he knows she wants more, so he briefly removes his hand so he can unbutton her pants, and he’s about to slide his hand beneath them—beneath her underwear, too—but before he can, she grabs his hand and says, “Wait, Peter.”

“Did you not want that? I’m so sorry—I thought you did, and I was just trying to do that stupid “take control” thing, but I-” he starts, but MJ interrupts his annoying, nervous babbling with a kiss like she always does.

“Don’t worry, I want it. It’s not that,” she laughs, visibly watching his shoulders relax. “I just...have a request. Something I can’t stop thinking about.”

“A request?” Peter asks, growing slightly nervous. “What...is it?”

“Have you ever gotten off to the thought of me, Peter?” she asks, her eyes looking into his hungrily like she’s desperately hoping his answer is yes.

His heartbeat is thumping loudly in his ears.

“Yeah, I...I have,” he looks at her, in her eyes, gulping. Although it makes him nervous, and makes his palms sweat anxiously, he feels _good_ knowing that he’s finally able to say it out loud.

“Show me,” she sits back slightly, biting her lip in anticipation.

“What?” he asks, using his hand to push on the mattress and sit upright.

“My request is that I want to watch while you masturbate,” she tells him, giving him this desperate, impatient look as she breathes in, waiting. “Actually, I _really_ want that—I want to know what it looks like. What _you_ look like when you do it. Show me.”

“MJ, I don’t know…” he blushes, breaking eye contact and taking in a sharp breath.

“You obviously don’t have to, I just…” she starts, tilting her head. _“I_ get off to the thought of it.”

That sends his head through a whirlwind, and a deeper flush to his cheeks.

“Um,” he breathes out, looking at her, seeing how much _she_ wants this. And the thought of her _wanting_ to see him do it is making this—and him—harder. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

She looks slightly shocked—but definitely happy—before finally shedding her shirt and pants and throwing them on the floor.

“Okay, just lay down and do what you would normally do,” she bites her lip, and he feels nervous, terrified, and turned on all at once. “Do you have lotion?”

“Yeah,” he nods dumbly, before turning and digging around in his nightstand for the tube of lotion he keeps in the back of it.

His hands are shaky and nervous, but he _wants_ this. And he knows that if he could build up the courage to have sex, he can do this too—especially since this is a normal “activity” he’s been doing for years. This time there’s just an audience.

He pours some into his hand, then sets the lotion back on the nightstand, taking in a deep breath.

“You can leave your boxers on for now if it makes you more comfortable,” she tells him, watching as he nods and laughs nervously, getting into position.

His back is against a pillow which is against the headboard, and he has a small amount of lotion in his hands, and he’s trying to mentally prepare himself.

“Whenever you’re ready,” MJ tells him, sitting on her knees next to him, patiently waiting.

“Okay,” he looks at her and smiles shyly, and she laughs as she leans in, giving him a sweet, reassuring kiss.

“Don’t be nervous,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to his. He nods and gulps, and she pulls back to watch as he uses his left hand to pull up the waistband of his boxers, and slides his right hand beneath it.

He feels the coolness of the lotion on his skin as he grabs himself, letting out a shaky, relieved sigh. It’s weird to have someone watch, but he just closes his eyes and moves his hand slowly, trying not to think about her eyes on him.

He pictures her on top of him like she was earlier, and then he imagines it’s _her_ hand on him like it was after the wedding, and then the thought of _her_ being turned on right now while watching him fills his brain. And he finds his hand steadily moving faster, before his thoughts are interrupted by the bed moving, and the sound of MJ shifting.

He opens his eyes and momentarily stops his movements, seeing MJ still sitting on her knees, but now leaning back with her hand on the bed behind her, and her other hand shoved down in her underwear.

“Peter, don’t stop,” she tells him, breathlessly parting her lips as she glances from the hand in his boxers to his eyes, rubbing her fingers against herself.

He gets a second wind then just from seeing her like this, and his stomach is tight and he’s somehow suddenly moving his hand again. He gulps as he watches MJ’s hand rapidly taking motion, and her _other_ hand grip roughly at the sheets. She’s moaning and watching his hand, and he’s moaning and watching her hand, and he can feel his orgasm building quicker and quicker the longer he gawks at her.

His hand is moving _fast_ now—desperate for release—as the strap of MJ’s bra falls down her shoulder, and he sees the beginning glisten of sweat on the skin of her chest. She’s moaning louder now and so is he, and before he can even process the things going on _now_ , MJ’s already sliding her hand down further and slipping two fingers into herself. He can see her knuckles against the inside of her underwear, and he watches them move in and out—faster and faster—as she starts pushing her hips down against her fingers. She doesn’t close her eyes like she usually does when she’s this close—instead, she diligently holds her eyes on Peter’s swift-moving hand and keeps going herself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pants out, wanting nothing more than to touch her right now. But he keeps his hands to himself— _on_ himself—as he slides his hand up and down hastily. “I’m getting close.”

“I am too,” she mutters out in an strained voice, rhythmically moving her body against her hand. Her lips are parted and she’s letting out soft, aching moans, and he hurriedly reaches over to grab a tissue from his night stand as he feels his buildup become overwhelming.

He keeps his eyes on her as he comes, gasping for air and still moving his hand despite the fact that it’s out of tempo now. He arches into it, riding the feeling of euphoria out until he comes down from his high.

He sits there quietly for a moment with his hand still in his boxers—his chest rising quickly as he tries to catch his breath—and watches MJ. Her moans are louder and are coming more frequently now, as she repeatedly thrusts her hips harder and harder against her hand. She throws her head back and shuts her eyes, and he’s watching in complete mesmerization at all of it—her hand and body moving against each other urgently, the sweat now more visible than ever on her skin, the sounds she’s making.

And then she orgasms—and he knows that because her body shivers and her voice trembles while she moans, and her fist grips rougher at the bedsheets and pulls them towards herself helplessly.

After her hand eventually stops moving and her moans subside, she blinks her eyes open and looks at him. She cracks a tired, happy smile, and he does too, and then they laugh as Peter pulls his hand from his boxers and leans in to kiss her. The kissing is sweet and light and breathless, and his sweaty skin sticks to _her_ sweaty skin as their arms touch.

“That was amazing,” Peter laughs against her mouth, shaking his head. He’s still blushy and nervous, but definitely worth it.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” MJ smiles and gives him another quick kiss, before throwing her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She’s still shaky and slightly wobbly on her feet, but she manages to stay upright as she says, “I think round two should be more shower sex. In honor of our amazing trip to Hawaii.”

“We both know how tiny my shower is,” he tells her, but he’s already smiling at the thought.

“We’ll make it work,” she shrugs, before turning around and walking towards the kitchen. “I’m getting the condoms—go turn on the water.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, so he climbs out of bed and heads to his bathroom, pushing the curtain to the side as he turns the shower temperature to almost exclusively hot water.

He turns around and is about to shed his boxers, when he sees MJ reach up and turn the faucet on—the condoms on the countertop beside her.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice still slightly hoarse.

“About to wash my soaking wet fingers,” she laughs and shakes her head, narrowing her eyes like _duh._

He grabs her hand then before it reaches the running water, and she turns and looks at him curiously as he pulls it up, sliding her fingers into his mouth. They really _are_ soaked with the taste of her, and that alone makes Peter feel the deep, burning ache in his stomach again.

MJ’s looking into his eyes while he does this, and her expression changes almost _instantly_ when she looks down at his mouth, then up to his eyes again.

She wordlessly reaches around with her left hand and easily unhooks her bra, before shoving her underwear down and off her legs. Then, as he pulls her fingers from her mouth, she drags him towards the shower quickly and hastily—not wasting even a _second._

He tugs his boxers down his legs with one hand, then dangerously hops towards the shower behind MJ trying to pull his feet free. Finally he loses his boxers altogether, right as MJ yanks him into the shower with her, pulls the curtain shut, and starts kissing him.

She reaches down between them and tries jerking him off, but this _is_ a one-person shower, so her elbow keeps slamming back against the wall. So she groans and presses him against the wall _,_ and then attempts to get down and put him in her mouth. But that doesn’t work either, because she’s too tall to _fully_ get down without having to be jammed against him and the wall—which would defeat the whole purpose anyway.

They’re kissing desperately and the hot water feels amazing against their skin, and they’re still trying to find a way to do this but nothing’s working and the lack of relief from every attempt is making MJ frustrated and restless.

So she turns the water off without a word, before pulling Peter out of the shower by his arm—both soaking wet as she hoists herself onto the counter, pulls Peter closer, and kisses him as she blindly reaches for one of the condoms. She finally tears it open, and they’re both panting and desperate for release now as she rolls it onto him.

She pushes her fingers into his hips and drags him closer, his body pressing into hers. He looks in her eyes as she reaches down and uses her hand to guide him inside her, and her eyes shut and she sighs as he finally is.

One of MJ’s hands are gripping at the towel rack beside her, and the other is clutching roughly at the edge of the countertop. It’s all going great until MJ starts slipping on the wet counter, and then Peter’s feet are sliding dangerously on the wet floor, and they can’t keep a solid rhythm going without almost falling and dying.

Doing this right out of the shower probably wasn’t a good idea.

But they’re both determined and _refuse_ to give up, so they eventually move to the floor. There’s water pooling around them, but they barely even notice because they’re too focused on finishing to care about anything else. That’s _also_ what helps get them through the uncomfortable part of this—Peter knows the cold, hard floor must be hurting MJ’s back (because it’s hurting just his _hand)_ but it doesn’t seem to be bothering her at all.

And finally, _finally_ he reaches a breathtaking orgasm, and as he’s riding it out, she reaches _her_ orgasm. She clutches at his arms and arches her back against him, and when they’re both finished, he pulls out of her and they laugh loudly as they lie next to each other in the puddle of water on the floor.

* * *

The next week after that is magical. Instead of having to wonder and worry if MJ might show up, he knows she will every day. She comes over and throws her bag in the corner, and then joins Peter in whatever it is he’s doing—eating, napping, watching TV, _anything._

And on top of that, they have sex every chance they get. When Ned hasn’t gotten home from school yet and they have, they have sex. If Ned goes to his mom’s, they have sex. If Ned steps out for ten minutes and walks to the third-floor vending machines, they have sex.

And the more they do it, the more _comfortable_ Peter gets doing it, and talking about it—which leads to them eventually being more “adventurous” (in MJ’s words.) And _that_ means on the kitchen table, and on the couch when Ned could be home _any minute._ But the very worst of it was when they were eating out at a nice restaurant with May and Ned, celebrating the fact that Ned got an offer to help design a new video game in a summer internship program.

They were at this fancy reserve-only restaurant, and they were all dressed in suits, ties, and dresses, and during a conversation between MJ and Ned, MJ reached down beside her and squeezed Peter’s leg.

And that was fine at first and Peter brushed it off, just thinking she was doing it absentmindedly. But it was apparent soon after that she was very clearly doing it on purpose.

She’s talking to Ned and May with full attention about a story from when they were at Midtown, and meanwhile _under_ the table her hand curves around his thigh. He gulps and grabs her hand, trying to laugh and smile at what she’s saying in the process so nothing looks off. But his other hand clutches at the seat beside him, and her hand is getting very, _very_ close to his annoyingly-fast-growing boner. All while she keeps a full conversation with May and Ned.

She’s talking and laughing and gesturing with her free hand above the table, and he’s beside her sweating and _praying_ she doesn’t move further. But not even _MJ_ would do that in front of his aunt and best friend—or in a public place, at that.

But she does.

She suddenly slides her hand over his pants, pressing her palm against him. His knee jolts up in surprise, hitting the table above it and spilling MJ’s glass of water.

“Whoa what was that, Peter?” MJ turns to him and laughs, pretending to have _no idea_ what he did that for. His face flushes as Ned and May look over, watching as he and MJ grab enough napkins to get most of the water from the table.

“Just...a leg spasm or something,” Peter laughs and waves them off, trying to cover his heavy breathing by leaning down and dabbing MJ’s dress with a napkin.

“Everything okay?” May asks, looking between them as she hands over her napkins as a contribution.

“Yeah, May, everything’s good,” MJ smiles, and he’s so annoyed by _just how great_ of an actress she really is. Because if he was May or Ned, he would actually believe her right now.

“I’m just...so _wet,”_ MJ laughs and glances at Peter briefly, but it’s long enough for him to see _that look_ and take note of the double meaning behind her words. “I think I’m gonna go to the restroom and try and take care of this.”

“Of course!” May laughs, pushing her glasses up with a warm smile. Ned’s attention is already elsewhere—yawning and looking around the room at all of the fancy light fixtures above them.

And then MJ excuses herself and makes her way to the bathroom, leaving Peter antsy and tapping his foot against the floor. And it’s all even worse when he sees MJ look back at him with a smirk before she pushes the door open.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” Peter adjusts his tie, before pushing his chair back with a laugh—discreetly trying to hide his boner. “This water went right through me. Be right back.”

“Okay, honey,” May smiles up at him, before turning to talk to Ned about what the video game is about.

Peter breathes in and walks past tables and waiters and waitresses, feeling like it’s taking him eternity just to get to the bathroom. And then he finally does, and he anxiously looks around the room to make sure no one's watching, before he pushes open the door to the women’s bathroom.

MJ’s already waiting for him as soon as he walks in, and she uses his tie to push him against the door and lock it behind him. “No one’s here—I checked.”

“You’re awful for doing that to me,” he laughs against her hot, open mouth, holding her face in his hands as she quickly unbuckles his belt.

“I think you’ll learn to forgive me,” she laughs and slides her hand down his pants, making him moan and his head fall back against the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this here? In a public bathroom?” Peter asks, but she’s already rubbing him and letting him know that _yes, she definitely does._ But she vocalizes it anyway.

“I really do,” she nods, kissing his neck and blindly pulling at his clothes. “Plus it’s a _fancy_ restaurant—it’s clean.”

He nods in agreement, desperately reaching down and pushing his hands under and up her dress. He’s running his hands over her legs now, until he gets high enough to hook his fingers around her underwear and pull them down.

She kicks them off her feet and he sets his hands on the backs of her thighs, before sliding them down and picking her up. She wraps her legs around his waist as he hurriedly carries her to the sink, setting her down and pressing his hand flat against the wall that’s behind her. They’re kissing messily now, and one of her hands is around his neck and the other is helping him push her dress up around her waist.

“We have to do this fast,” he tells her, as she reaches down into her bra and grabs a condom, rips it open with her teeth, and puts it on him.

“Good,” she laughs with an uneven breath, before she yanks him closer and urges him inside of her.

She instantly gasps at the contact and leans her head back against the mirror behind her, using both of her hands to hold the sink at her sides. She finds his rhythm and matches it, pushing herself down against him over and over again.

And now since they _have_ done it so many times, he knows what she wants, and how to make her orgasm quickly and easily. It only takes around two or so minutes for them to both get there, and when they do, he leans down and presses his sweaty forehead against her chest, and she holds him there and runs her hands through his hair with a content sigh.

He somehow _still_ can’t believe he just had sex with her—even though his sweat and absence of breath are there to prove it.

“We should go,” he mutters regrettably, raising his head up slightly to kiss her. “They’re probably onto us.”

“And now that I’m thinking with a sort-of clear head, I _really_ don’t want May finding out we just had sex in a public bathroom.” MJ laughs breathlessly, both of them still weak and tired and sporting an extreme afterglow.

So they both pull their clothes back on and look in the mirror to fix their messy hair, laughing the whole time. There’s nothing they can really do about their swollen lips or their heavy breath, so they just decide to try and not draw any attention to it.

And once they go back and sit down—MJ going first, then Peter half a minute later—they smile knowingly at each other. Ned seems suspicious, but May hasn’t seemed to pick up on anything out of the ordinary—which they’re both _very_ happy about.

So, needless to say, things are going great. Perfect, actually, because they tease each other, but they don’t really fight. And she hasn’t said “I love you” yet, but he’s okay with it because everything else is so incredibly amazing.

And on top of that, their one month dating anniversary is coming up tomorrow. He does wish they could go _one day_ without having sex and just go on a date and do couple-y things, so that’s why he’s planning on taking her _out_ for their anniversary—to take a tour that she’s been talking about wanting to do for a while at Weeksville Heritage Center, then dinner, and then make a stop at their favorite cafe for coffee on their way home.

He already has dinner reservations made and he’s booked the tour, and he’s been secretly tutoring a few of his classmates in Calculus II during lunch to make some extra cash (he told MJ he was helping his teacher grade papers for extra credit.) So everything is good, and solid, and he’s happier than he ever even thought he _could_ be.

But it’s only one day prior to their one month anniversary as a couple when it all goes horribly wrong.

They’re laying in bed after sex again, and her head is on his chest and he’s running his fingers through her hair. And that’s actually a _lot_ of progress for them, because once they’re finished, she usually rolls over and keeps her distance—even when he wants to cuddle and hold her hand and kiss her more. So right now, as she’s laying her head on him and letting him pull her close, he’s content.

That is until he decides to bring up something that’s been on his mind for a while—something he’s already talked to Ned about, and May about, and something that’s been weighing on him.

And it’s all brought up because MJ starts the conversation with, “Can you believe we only have two weeks left of our first year at college?”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Peter laughs, rubbing his hand softly against her arm and staring up at the ceiling. “It feels like yesterday when me and Ned moved in here.”

“And when I moved into that shitty dorm, too,” she replies with a small laugh, and his heartbeat starts to pick up as he think of how to approach the topic.

He’s pretty sure now that they’re stable enough for her to not freak out, but he can never _really_ know what is and isn’t okay with MJ. So he just goes for it.

“So...where are you gonna live during summer break?” he asks, keep his voice light and nonchalant. “I mean, I figured you aren’t staying with your mom or any other relative, so do you know yet?”

“I actually haven’t thought about that,” she shrugs, not seeming too worried about it. “I still have two weeks left though—I’ll figure it out.”

“Well I actually wanted to...talk to you about something,” he tells her, still pushing his fingers through her hair, trying not to show that this is making him nervous (even though it really, _really_ is.)

“Okay…?” she starts, laughing a little and seeming curious.

“I was just thinking maybe you could, you know…move in here,” he breathes out, swallowing thickly. “With me.”

She doesn’t say anything, and he feels her suddenly tense up against him, and _he_ starts to feel panic set in his chest and stomach and throat. They haven’t had one of these moments in a while—when he suggests they’re further in their relationship than she considers them to be—and he didn’t miss it.

“You already stay here every night, and you have a ton of your stuff here, and I just…thought it would be nice,” he tells her, trying not to let himself worry over her reaction yet. He, of course, fails miserably. “It would be for me, at least.”

She hesitates.

“Peter, I...don’t think I can do that,” she sighs like she doesn’t want to say it, and she sits up and throws her legs over the side of the bed and puts her face in her hands, rubbing her temples.

“Okay,” he sits up and gulps, mentally scolding himself for not knowing better. “I’m sorry. I know it’s soon, I just thought since summer was coming, and you didn’t have a place yet, I’d at least give you the option.”

“It’s fast,” she shakes her head, standing up now and crossing her arms as she walks over to the window. “It’s _really_ fast.”

“I know,” he breathes out, leaning over and pushing his palm smoothly over his hair. “But I love having you around. I understand that it’s fast, and I’m okay knowing you don’t want to now, I just want to be clear that it’s always an open invitation. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or freak you out or anything like that.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I _need_ this,” she breathes out, turning around to look at him finally.

He can tell she’s upset he even brought it _up,_ because it ruined their great “don’t talk about anything serious and we’ll be fine” compromise. But Peter can’t live like that—he never _will_ be able to live like that.

“I like being with you, Peter, I just don’t want this to be some stupid pity thing,” she shakes her head, looking in his general direction but avoiding all eye contact. “Because I know you, and I know you probably keep thinking about how I don’t have family to go home to and you feel bad for me, but it isn’t like that, okay? I can deal with this myself—I’m fine.”

“I know you can,” he laughs sadly, looking up at her. “I know that better than _anyone,_ actually. I just thought we were at a good enough point in our relationship to at least _talk_ about it. And of course I didn’t want to bring up your mom, but you need-”

“-Look, Peter,” she interrupts, clenching her fists at her sides, “I like you, and I like us, but I don’t need you. I don’t, because I survived my whole life without you. I’ve done it on my own, and I’ve dealt with it on my own. Just because we’re together now doesn’t mean I _need_ you. I can figure things out by myself—I don’t want you offering anything because you feel sorry for me.”

“I know, I’m not saying you can’t, MJ. Not at all, because you’re amazing and strong and brave, and I _know_ you don’t need me saving you or something,” he breathes out, staying his distance. “But I _am_ saying that you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I know I can’t fix it, but I want to help in any way I can. You may not need me, but you deserve support and love and happiness just like everyone else. I just want you to know that.”

He can tell she wants to give in and accept that, and let go of the anger, but she can’t. Because she’s already thought about it all again, and she’s too deep into it to just let go and forget about it now.

“I know it,” she replies, gulping. She’s not angry, but she isn’t just magically okay with it all, either.

“Have you thought that I might just want you to move in with me because I _like_ you, and no other reason?” he smiles a little, testing the waters. But she just looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

“I think I’m gonna go stay in my dorm for a few nights. I just need to clear my head and figure some things out,” she rubs her temple, her voice low.

“Okay, I understand,” he nods sadly, watching as she grabs some of her things from his room.

He wants to ask _“will you be back tomorrow?”_ because he has all of those plans setup, but he was keeping it all a surprise for her so she doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know if she realizes it’s their one month anniversary, and she’d probably think it was cheesy to do anything for it at all anyway.

So he keeps quiet and doesn’t bring it up, just hoping they’ve made up by then. Because if he tells her the plans now, she’ll feel bad and feel obligated to go with him. And he wants her to _want_ to go—not do it because she feels guilty.

So she says bye but doesn’t kiss him, before hesitating in the doorway. It’s only for a few seconds, and then she leaves, and he’s alone.

They both know Peter only had good intentions, but MJ still has things she needs to deal with, and his offer just brought it all back up and made her think about them again. And it sucks, but he gets it.

He sleeps awfully that night without her there, and he keeps checking his phone to see if she’s texted him like he wants to text her, but she hasn’t. And he knows she needs space, so he doesn’t say anything either. And it sucks.

He lays on the couch and watches Ned play video games the next day. He wants to text her _“Happy anniversary—I love you,”_ but he doesn’t want to make her feel like she _has_ to text back or make feel guilty for _not_ texting back. He’s torn.

One p.m. rolls around on Saturday, and this is when he’s supposed to be revealing his plans to MJ and they’re supposed to be getting ready. But it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen.

He hasn’t heard a word from her since last night, and even though he knows this isn’t a make-or-break-their-relationship type of situation, it still doesn’t feel good at all.

But because of the fact that their booked tour is at two, he gets up and takes a shower at one-fifteen anyway—holding onto the hope that she _may_ text him, and he’d want to be ready for that just in case. But then one-thirty rolls around, and then two, and he just accepts that it isn’t going to happen. So he calls and cancels the tour, and he calls and cancels dinner.

Ned assures him that’ll all turn out fine like it always does, and even though Peter realistically knows that, he still feels miserable regardless—mostly because he doesn’t hear from her Sunday, either.

Monday finally rolls around, and since he already promised to help his classmate with separable functions, he doesn’t even get to see MJ at lunch.

On his way home from school, though, he makes up his mind that he’s going to finally just _text her_ when he gets there. Because he’s tired of not talking to her and he wants to make sure she’s okay, and it’s already been almost three full days since he’s seen or heard from her.

As soon as he walks in the door, he pulls his headphones from his ears and switches on the light—ready to toss his backpack on the table and get something to eat. But when he _does_ flip the light on, MJ’s standing there on the other side of the table, smiling nervously at him.

“Surprise,” she laughs out weakly, her firsts balled up anxiously at her sides.

“What’s...what’s going on?” Peter asks, shocked but smiling as he sets his backpack on the floor and looks around. The table has food and plates on it, and a bottle of wine, and a large candle in the middle.

“Ned told me today about the plans you had for us Saturday, and about our anniversary, and...I wanted to do something special for you. It’s a not-as-cool recreation of our first sort-of date we had that last night in Hawaii,” she gulps, standing still.“I know I’m not big on the whole “romance” thing, but...I wanted to do something for you. I’m sorry I forgot about our anniversary, and I’m sorry I was such a jerk. I’m sorry for all of it, actually, and this is my sucky way of trying to make it up to you.”

“It’s not sucky at all,” he laughs, happily walking up to her, grabbing her face, and kissing her. And then, against her lips, he whispers, “I love this. I love _you.”_

She kisses back, letting out a relieved, happy laugh.

“I thought about trying to cook some of that breaded macaroni and cheese stuff you had, but I really didn’t want to burn down your kitchen so I thought better of it and grabbed some store-bought instead,” she tells him, both of them smiling like idiots as they sit down. “The bottle of wine is significantly cheaper than the other one too, but I figured it would do.”

“This is perfect, MJ,” he shakes his head as he looks at it, still unable to believe she did all of this for _him._ “Thank you.”

“No, don’t thank me,” she replies, lightly kicking him under the table. “I was a huge dick to you, and I really am sorry.”

And then she takes in a long breath, and says, “And since I _did_ have time to think about it, I realized...I _do_ want to live here with you. If you still want me to.”

And even though Peter hasn’t even taken a single bite to eat yet, he gets up out of his seat to go over and kiss her again.

He’s happy, and overwhelmed (in a good way, though), and best of all, he’s content.

That night they _don’t_ immediately go have sex for once in their month (and one day)-long relationship. They just cuddle in bed together and watch a movie, drink wine, and eat popcorn.

Although Peter didn’t think the night could _possibly_ get better, it does. Because while they’re laying there holding each other—the credits of the movie having been rolling over the screen for minutes now—MJ squeezes his arm and nervously whispers out, “I love you, Peter.”

And after that, they have sex like they _are_ in love. It’s the sort of fulfillment Peter had been longing for; the kind where it’s slow and gentle, and both are doing it because it brings them closer—not just so they can feel good.

Afterwards MJ kisses him deeply and walks out to take a shower, and Peter gets up to grab a new pair of boxers so he can go next. As he walks past his desk to get to his dresser, though, he stops and picks up the framed picture sitting beside his keyboard.

It’s the picture that Kyra sent him in the mail a few weeks ago—the picture the photographer took while he and MJ were dancing at the wedding. MJ’s leaning into Peter with her arms hung loosely around his neck, tilting her head back slightly and giving a genuinely happy smile.

Peter is pictured there next to her with his arms around her waist, and his hands on her back pulling her closer, and he’s looking at her like she’s the love of his life.

And even after their _yearly_ anniversaries come and go, and MJ learns to tell him "I love you" without effort, he still looks at her like that—because she _is_ the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end! I love you guys and you have no idea how much fun I had writing this for you. I love you all, and will be ETERNALLY grateful for all of the support you've given me. 
> 
> I'm sure I'll write another story eventually, but until then, thank you for EVERYTHING!!!!! You can follow me on twitter @chrono996 to keep up if you want :) Hope you all liked the epilogue!!


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